Down the Rabbit Hole
by PrincessPeach300
Summary: Batman/Joker slash. Batman takes in an injured Joker after his and the Mad Hatters escape from Arkham. Can Batman find a reason behind the madness before its too late?
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plotline, Batman and all other characters belong to the DC universe and anything related to the Dark Night belongs to Mr.Nolan. Any Alice in wonderland reference belong to Charles Lutwidge Dodgson.

**Chapter One**

Jarvis Tetch, alias the Mad Hatter hovered silently in a darkened ally way outside a rundown apartment building. He was sure he hadn't been followed but with Batman now stalking the city looking for to escaped Arkham inmates, one could never be sure. Slipping inside the building with ease even there had been someone to take notice of him they probably wouldn't have found him too remarkable. Tetch had quickly shed his old Arkham uniform and found himself an outfit befitting of any normal 40 year old man, brown slacks, a shirt and a v neck pullover. He'd even found himself a neat little hat to go with it.

Tetch stopped outside a third floor apartment and pressed his ear to the door to listen for any signs of life from within. Hearing nothing he glanced around to make sure there would be no disturbances tonight. All the residence of this particular dive seemed to be safely tucked up in there beds. On a whim he tried the door handle and finding it locked he dug a hair pin out of his pocket. Lock picking wasn't one of his strong points but he'd learnt a few tricks before his escape from Arkham. The door swung open easily and the Mad Hatter stepped into the rundown apartment.

It was dingy and dank, just how the Joker liked it, with a small kitchen in the corner and two rooms off to the side. The rest of the room was inhabited by a single table, various amounts of broken furniture and a large quantity of dust. Checking the first room, a tiny bathroom in which everything seemed to be covered in black grime, the Mad Hatter tried the second door. He let his eyes adjust to the gloom and saw that he had finally located the Joker who was sprawled out on a rather uncomfortable looking double bed. He was still clothed in his the white Arkham pyjamas and had his trademark makeup smudged across his face. When he had first woken up in his Arkham cell without his "real" face on he screamed and shouted all night even after the prison guards had given him a dose of Lithium. They doctors had finally relented when the Joker had fractured his own skull by slamming his head into his cell wall.

The Clown Prince of Crime was currently sprawled out on his stomach, seemingly having just collapsed onto the bed. The raggedness of his breathing told the Mad Hatter that the sleep that had overcome the Joker was more to do with the amount of drugs that had been pumped through his system then by choice. When they'd escaped from Arkham the Joker had been none too steady on his feet and spouting more crazed rubbish then usual. Besides if he wasn't still drugged up he'd have killed the Mad Hatter before he had even got through the door.

The Mad Hatter sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through the Joker's lovely soft mop of curly blonde hair; it reminded him so much of his Alice's. When the Joker had first come to Arkham his hair was a dull mossy green colour, now the green just clung stubbornly to the edges revealing a warm blonde hue. The Mad Hatter remembered fondly the first and only time he had seen the face that lay behind the make up. He was such a pretty little thing, he thought, with those big green eyes, soft looking lips…

One of the Jokers toes twitched restlessly as the Mad Hatter drank in how white the skin was on the rest of the Joker's body compared to the make up he smeared across his face. Idly his fingers reached to see if the skin on the Joker's leg felt as soft as it looked. Reaching up he tugged town the top of the clown's pyjama pants right down to his knees and slid his fingers over the bare white skin.

Upon finding that it was his hands slid further up the leg, past the thigh and up into the Joker's underwear to cup a firm round buttocks. The Mad Hatter groaned out loud he hadn't even realised but he was all ready hard, but that skin was so soft and firm he wanted to touch more. Removing himself of his trousers and underwear the Mad Hatter stroked his now pulsating cock. Groaning to himself he moved up the bed and positioned himself above the Joker.

The drugs that the doctors at Arkham had pumped him full of were making his thought process muddled. He had a hard enough time trying to think straight at the best of times and the Thorazine that was still coursing through his system was not helping matters. He tried to mumble out a protest but the words seemed to be coming out in the wrong order. He felt himself being roughly pushed down into the mattress. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew it wasn't Harley, the grip was too firm, the weight too great and Harley would know better to even go near him when he was in this state. Joker could hear a voice talking to him but his brain wasn't connecting to the words in the right order. It made his head hurt trying to understand what was being said to him. Suddenly he felt something large and heavy on top of him with the voice telling him something again. He tried to roll over and wriggle out from underneath but whoever was on top of him had his wrists in a tight grip. His eyes managed to open this time but his head span as he tried to adjust his vision. The drugs were making it difficult to focus on anything, least of all who the person on top of him was.

The Mad Hatter was aware that the Joker was moving groggily beneath him but the feeling of the Clown Prince of Crime moving helplessly under him was turning him on so much. Shifting slightly, he lowered his hips and began to grind his erection into the Jokers underwear clad ass.

"Ohhh such a pretty little Alice you are, you feel so good" he moaned, sliding his fingers into blonde curls and pulling hard. Releasing one of the Jokers skinny wrists he pulled down the cotton boxers and dragged his cock over the Jokers bare ass. His hand kept rubbing, sliding and stroking up and down his cock as he did this. His orgasm was almost upon him when he put the head of his cock against the Jokers asshole. Suddenly he forced his cock into the tight entrance, receiving a low groan from beneath him as the Joker started to wriggle again. Clamping down on both wrists again the Mad Hatter began pumping his cock in and out, grunting and sweating profusely. He ran his hands up the length of the Joker's back and then back down to his arse and gave it a hefty squeeze as he pumped himself in and out. The man beneath him began to move more rapidly and let out a low whimper as the Mad Hatter rode him harder.

The Joker felt as if his insides were on fire. He was beginning to become more aware of his surroundings but his limbs were still not doing what his brain was telling them too. The weight on top of him was making it difficult to breath and the pain in his gut was intensifying. He tried wriggling his wrist free but the hands that held him only tightened there grip.

The Mad Hatter gave the Joker a blunt slap on the arse that made the skinny man shriek and cringe as the dark haired man laughed shrilly. But, he began pumping harder, driving himself into the submissive man frantically so that he was becoming increasingly exhausted.

The Mad Hatter groaned in pure ecstasy.

"Ooohhh! Alice!!" the Mad Hatter moaned as he finally found release. His member pulsated inside of the man and he threw his head back, breathing frantically while he rode out his climax. Withdrawing quickly he hastily pulled his trousers and underwear back on and made for his pre planned exit, out of the window and down the fire escape before the Joker even made it into a sitting position.

The Joker curled himself into the foetal position. His insides were still burning a feeling that felt disturbingly familiar. Feeling the cold breeze from the open window hitting the bare skin on his legs the Joker managed to pull his pyjama bottoms up. Still shivering he forced himself into an upright position, only one thought had crossed his mind so far and that was to run. With his head still thumping like a brass band and his vision unfocused he staggered towards the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Of all the things Batman expected to find on his patrol that night, the Joker tumbling down a flight of stairs towards him was very low down on his list.

The Joker and the Mad Hatter had escaped from Arkham two nights ago and according to the guards the Joker was in no fit state to be going anywhere after undergoing shock therapy and then being pumped full of Barbiturates the evening of the escape. Both the Arkham staff and the police were still slightly baffled as to why these too particular criminals would be on the run together but Batman had a fair idea as too the answer. By escaping with the Joker, Tetch had effectively given himself the perfect cover as Batman and the police force would be sure to put all there efforts into hunting down a psychopath who had only a few months previously destroyed half the city. However Batman found himself oddly more concerned about a schizophrenic paedophile who liked to abuse children who in his sick mind, resembled Alice from Alice and Wonderland.

Batman marched over to wear the Joker had landed and tried to sit him up so he could see if there was any damage done. Apart from a large bruise forming on his knee and a cut on his forehead he was relatively unharmed. The drugs that he'd been given must have been pretty strong as he was still as floppy as a rag doll and Bruce had doubted he even knew where he was. Casting his eyes back down towards the staircase Batman snapped a Bat cuff to the staircase and the other to one of the Jokers skinny wrists.

"Wait Here" he said gruffly and headed up to the apartment that the Joker had been staying in. once inside searched the entire place but found nothing, no knives, no gasoline, not even any spare supplies of the Jokers precious make up. This didn't exactly look like the makings of some great escape plot but it still gave Batman a deep sense of unease. Looking at his watch he concluded that it would be pointless taking him back to Arkham, not least until they got there security system sorted. Making his way back down the staircase he found the Joker in the same heap he left him in and uncuffed him from the staircase.

"Joker, do you think you can walk?" his response was an unintelligible mumble as the Joker slumped further onto the floor. In one brisk movement Bruce picked the Joker up and carried him out to the Tumbler. It surprised him how frail the Jokers body seemed beneath his clothes. The Arkham care guide evidently did not include feeding its patients.

The Mad Hatter watched as Batman carried a small heap of arms and limbs that was the Joker into the Tumbler; smiling to himself he always knew the Joker was the Batman's favourite. As the car spend off the Mad Hatter walking back in the opposite direction, down towards the narrows were his new Alice was waiting.

The journey back to the Batcave was uneventful until the Joker without warning, suddenly threw up all over the back seat of the Tumbler. Slamming on the breaks Batman got out and went to check on his passenger in the backseat. The Joker didn't look too good. His make up was smudged all over the place due to the sweat that was dripping down his face and his body was wracked with shakes. Batman reached in and pulled him up into a sitting position by his arms.

"Joker, this better not be one of your games, or else I'll take you straight back to Arkham like I should have done in the first place"

The Joker merely groaned as his head flopped forwards onto Batman's shoulder, his mind sinking into unconsciousness once more. Batman could practically feel the heat radiating of the Jokers skin and pushing aside his hatred for a man that had caused him nothing but pain and misery for the last few months, he gently picked him up and put him in the front passenger seat. Digging around beneath the front seat he found a blanket and wrapped the Joker in it. Batman took the rest of the journey at a slower speed, mostly to save himself the task of cleaning more vomit from his car. They made it all the way into the Batcave before the Joker groaned and lent forward clutching his stomach. Dragging the semi-conscious man to the bathroom, Batman made it just in time before the Joker retched again.

With his mind on auto pilot, Batman knew that he needed to get take a sample of the Jokers blood, hack into Arkham's patient files to see exactly what the type of drugs the Joker had been given and what the effects of his shock therapy were. As soon as he let go the Joker's knees buckled and he crashed to the floor, smacking his head on the toilet seat as he went. Groaning loudly, the Joker made another attempt to stand which ended in him crashing into the wall opposite. Batman then spent the next hour with his arm round the Jokers waist, supporting his weight and with his other hand holding the Joker's hair back from his face as he continuously vomited. After a while the vomiting seemed to subside he was just a shaking heap in Batman's arms, his skin was now as cold as ice and equally as pale. Batman hand subconsciously reached out to stroke the Joker's hair soothingly; he vaguely noted that underneath that green hair dye was a surprisingly nice shade of honey blonde hair. On either side of the Joker's head there were circular burn marks, a tell tale sign of shock therapy. The cut on his head didn't seem to be too severe and had stopped bleeding. Out of curiosity Bruce's fingers moved from the Joker's hair and lightly brushed one of the scars on the Joker's cheek. Suddenly realizing at what he was running his hand through his arch enemies hair like he was a faithfully lover, Batman dropped his hand to his side like he'd been burnt. He needed to get on and research what was making the Joker ill so he could then be returned to Arkham. Batman made to stand which proved difficult as the Joker had curled up in his lap and had his head draped against his chest. Looking around Bruce realised there was no where to put the Joker where he couldn't do himself any more damage. The Batcave, like the manor above was still not returned to its former glory. He had the basic medical equipment down here, his computer system and a basic bathroom but that was all. He didn't like the idea of leaving The Joker on the floor, researching a cure and coming back to find out he had choked on his own vomit. The only other option was the small bedroom on the first floor that Bruce had made for himself in the only part of Wayne Manor that was habitable. Silently thanking the fact that Alfred was currently back at his Gotham penthouse and couldn't tell what an idiot he was being, Batman grabbed wrapped the Joker in the blanket and carried him out of the Batcave.


	3. Chapter 3

67 Swarland Avenue, The Narrows, Gotham was by no means a remarkable place

67 Swarland Avenue, The Narrows, Gotham was by no means a remarkable place. If you were to walk by it in the middle of the day or in the dead of night, you would not stop to look upon, wonder what secrets an old building like that housed or pay it any mind at all. The yard at the back was long overgrown, its tangled web of weeds spread like a jungle covering everything in its path. The large Iron Gate at the front had long since rusted shut, its hinges destroyed by years of neglect and bad weather. It was in this house that 78 year old Mavis Tetch lived out the latter part of her years until she died of heart failure some two months previously. The house an all its contents went to her only surviving relative, her son Jarvis Tetch.

Some fifteen years previously a number of little girls had disappeared, all taken in mysterious circumstances with the only connection to any of the victims being that they were all called Alice, had long blonde hair and were between 11 and 13 years old. Mavis Tetch didn't much care for all the news coverage that followed all the stories, if these girls were silly enough to be wandering about by themselves then they deserved what was coming to them. Apart from a bit of idle gossip with the neighbours over the disappearances Mavis all but forgot about the girls until in the middle of the night half of Gotham's police force came crashing threw her door. She had sat for hours in a cold police station begging to see her son who they tried to convince her had been responsible for the abduction of the missing girls. Mavis knew there had been a mistake, it didn't mean anything that Jarvis was seen talking to Alice Weartherton only a few hours before she disappeared. When Mavis was finally been allowed to see her son he had sobbed and begged her to believe him that he had nothing to do with the little girls' disappearances. Of course she believed him, she was a good mother and a good mother always stands by her children.

After the incarceration of her son the Gotham police force searched the house from top to bottom, trying to find something, anything that would connect Jarvis Tetch to the disappearances of Alice Weartherton and the eight other little girls that had been reported missing. They found nothing, not a scrap of evidence that proved that any of the girls had ever been near Jarvis Tetch's house or car.

However if they had looked a little closer, dug a little deeper, had a real hard look in the kitchen then maybe they would have found something that they weren't expecting. If they had noticed that the large wooden china hutch did not stand quite so flush against the kitchen wall. If they had pulled it back they would have found a small door that opened onto a concrete stairway and led down into a dark basement. If they had made it down the staircase and into the basement then they would have found little Alice Weartherton bound and gagged, her blonde hair held back with a wide ribbon wearing a pale blue knee length dress and a white pinafore. Sadly for little Alice Weartherton none of the police officers on duty that day gave any thought to the large piece of furniture standing ominously in the kitchen as they charged throughout the rickety old house, searching in vein for any sign of her. It was two weeks before her fragile body finally gave up and she died alone in the dark with no one to comfort her.

In the years that passed Mavis visited her son every weekend in Arkhams minimum security wing. He was a good boy she reasoned, maybe a little muddled but he was all she had left now. She would always bring him a plate of cookies cut out in the shape of rabbits, hats and hearts. Mavis didn't quite no why her son would only request these shapes but she did so like to please her son.

Jarvis Tetch had made his way swiftly back to his mothers old house after his visit to the Joker. It wasn't his intention to stop off and pay the Joker a visit but the opportunity had presented itself and he couldn't resist. Jarvis still couldn't get over the texture of the Joker's curly blonde hair; it sent shivers down his spine. He wondered briefly what it would feel like to repeat the experience in his more usual circumstances but right now his mind was focussed back on his previous mission. He had been worried when he had first seen the Batman heading out of the building with the Joker bundled up in his arms. It seemed however that on this night the Dark Knight had other things on his mind and he was able to slip back into the darkness of the ally way. Jarvis grinned to himself as he headed back towards the Narrows; hopefully Batman would have as much fun with the Joker as he had.

It hadn't taken him long to find a way into his mother's old house, the key she always left under the plant pot was still there and he was able to let him himself in at his ease. By the time he had left on his visit to the Joker's everything had been in order and back to exactly how he had left it. Pulling back the china hutch he made his way down the pitch black staircase, after years of familiarity he no longer needed a flashlight.

The room he entered was flooded with a bright florescent light as he flipped the light switch at the bottom of the staircase. In one corner there was a small iron bed with an old moth eaten mattress and blanket upon which he threw his jacket onto. Moving closer to bed he pulled from beneath it a large iron chest and carefully began to unpack its contents. One large green top hat with black trim, a red and white spotted bow tie, an orange and red checked suit and a green coat were all lovingly set aside on the floor. It didn't take him long to strip of the clothes he had stolen and pull himself back into his uniform. Moving towards the large dust ridden mirror that hung above the bed he re adjusted the "In This Style 10/6" tag on the side of his hat. Finally he felt complete after so many years in incarceration.

There were only two other items of furniture that held any significance to the Mad Hatter. From floor to ceiling going round on the left hand wall were shelves with row upon row of video tapes, each lined up neatly in a row. There was no discernable difference between the tapes, they were all the same make and had the same white casing. The only thing that would give an observer anything to tell them apart by was a single number on the spine of each of the tapes. The Mad Hatter knew what was on every single one of the tapes, every scene, every word, and every action and kept them in a specific order, only needing to see a single number to know what was on a certain tape. The only exception was a small row of tapes on the top most shelves which housed every film and television version of Alice in Wonderland that had ever been made. These were arranged lovingly in chronological order and the Mad Hatter made a grab for his favourite version of Alice in Wonderland, the 1903 silent film directed by Cecil Hepworth and staring May Clark.

Moving across the room he switched on the old battered television he owned and pushed the tape into the VCR. A warm rush filled his body as heard the familiar music float threw his ears. Even though he had watched the film hundreds of times over, he always got that same indescribable feeling every time he hit the play button.

The Mad Hatter moved over to the only other piece of furniture in the room a large, round, wooden table with a pristine white chintz table cloth placed over it. On the table sat a vast array of tea cups in all shapes, sizes, colours all crammed amongst a dozen or so teapots. There were only two seats at the table one at the head where the Mad Hatter sat and one positioned opposite him, ready and waiting. The Mad Hatter was feverishly re-positioning the items on the table making sure everything was perfect, muttering softly along with the film under his breath;

"_All in the golden afternoon  
Full leisurely we glide;__  
For both our oars, with little skill,  
By little arms are plied,  
While little hands make vain pretense  
Our wanderings to guide._

His voice grew louder and more excited as he gripped one of the tea cups, almost crushing it beneath his grip;

"_Alice! a childish story take,  
And with a gentle hand  
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined  
In Memory's mystic band,  
Like pilgrim's withered wreath of flowers  
Plucked in a far-off lan__d"_

It was in the basement of this house, in the room behind the china hutch that had not been used in fifteen years, that 12 year old Alice Macintyre now sat bound and gagged, her blonde hair held back with a wide ribbon and wearing a pale blue knee length dress with a white pinafore, her eyes wild and terrified.


	4. Chapter 4

Arkham Asylum Patient File

**Arkham Asylum Patient File No. GO78NN2QKE**

Name: Unknown

Alias: Joker

Age: Unknown

Height: 5ft 9in

Weight at time of admission: 10st

Weight after admission: 9st 7lb

Marital Status: Unknown

Nearest Relative or Correspondent: Unknown

**Physicians Examination**

State briefly the mental symptoms of patient: severe psychotic disturbance, bipolar disorder and at least two other possible mental illnesses

When first observed: Unknown

How rapid development: Unknown

Has patient attempted suicide: No

Has patient attempted homicide: Unknown

State intellectual level: Unknown

Has patient had previous psychiatric care: Unknown

Alcoholic habits: Patients systems clear from alcohol at time of admission

Drug habits: Patients systems clear from substances at time of admission

Injuries at time of admission: three lacerations to the arm caused by the vigilante, Batman. Became infected after the patient repeatedly pulled the stitches out.

**Mental Status Exam**

A person who is psychotic is out of touch with reality. People with psychosis may hear "voices" or have strange and illogical ideas. We have yet to determine if the "Joker's" recent action is the result of his hearing voices as any attempt to question him on the subject has been unsuccessful. However the patient does exhibit other symptoms of a psychotic illness such as getting excited or angry for no apparent reason and chronic insomnia. He seems to have no regard for his own appearance, his clothes whilst custom made are threadbare and unwashed, the choice of patenting and color also adds to the case for a psychotic illness.

The severe facial scaring that the patient possess could also be another indication of a severe psychotic illness but this would only be confirmed if the patient had disfigured himself. At this moment in time the patient is unwilling, or unable, to explain how he came to have such scars. However it is clear that the patient does not see his unmasked face as his true identity. As is procedure when the patient was brought to our facilities, heavily sedated, we removed all his own clothing and make-up off his face. When the patient came around in his cell he became very agitated and distressed, screaming for his "face" to be returned. It was explained to the patient that no items of personal effect were allowed in Arkham, including make-up, which resulted in the patient smashing his own head into the wall four times and fracturing his own skull. After this incident it was agreed upon that to save the patient doing any more damage to himself, he would be given his "face" back.

However when examining the case of the patient further a cross diagnosis of Bipolar disorder must also be taken into account. Bipolar disorder is characterized by cycling mood changes: severe highs (mania) and lows (depression). Episodes may be predominantly manic or depressive, with normal mood between episodes. Mood swings may follow each other very closely, within days (rapid cycling), or may be separated by months to years. The "highs" and "lows" may vary in intensity and severity and can co-exist in "mixed" episodes.

The main symptom we have observed in the patient that is conclusive with severe mania is being overtly talkative as the patient switched from one topic to another, almost as if he could not get his thoughts out fast enough. His attention span is often short unless he is engaged in a topic that he is specifically interested in, namely the vigilantly known as Batman. This is mostly due to the patient's obviously high intellect; he finds it frustrating not to have any stimulation for his mind which then results in boredom and ultimately violence.

Any attempt to discern the patient's true identity has been meet with fanciful stories, none of which are remotely plausible, and have resulted in the patient becoming angry and violent towards himself and members of staff (see attached Arkham Case File).

Whilst in this "high" state of mania the patient has often been observed to be irritable, angry and have false or inflated ideas about his position or importance in the world. The patient then becomes very elated, and full of grand schemes that shows no regard for any human life, including his own (see police transcript 20FF78).

However it must be understood that this is not a conclusive diagnosis as it has been extremely difficult to analyze the patient due to his violent and disturbing behavior shown towards staff, himself and generally anyone he comes into contact with. Such behavior has led to the patient having to be heavily sedated so as not to cause a threat staff or other patients, this in itself does not help with drying to discern the patient's deeper psychological problems

The patient has yet to show any of the "low" mood characteristics associated with Bipolar disorder such as; lack of energy, with slowed thinking and movements, feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, sadness, worthlessness, guilt or thoughts of suicide. This could foreshadow that the patient has a complete lack of empathy, neither caring for those around him or even himself.

In review of the diagnosis of schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder we chose to send the patients case file to Professor Leopold a professor of psychology at Gotham University and Dr. Kinsley, a leading psychiatrist who specialises in the criminally insane. Professor Leopold made the suggestion that the patient could be suffering from Schizoaffective disorder. Schizoaffective disorder is a controversial diagnosis because the symptoms often seem similar to either schizophrenia or manic depression. Some clinicians do not believe there are sufficient differences to justify a separate diagnosis.

The diagnosis is given to someone who experiences symptoms of both a serious mood disorder and schizophrenia at the same time, or within days of each other. Generally, two subtypes of the disorders are recognised: bipolar a schizoaffective, manic or mixed type, also called schizomania and unipolar a schizoaffective, depressed type.

Schizoaffective disorder is characterised by the presence of both of the following:

A serious mood disorder: This may be either bipolar, characterised by extreme swings from depression to elation, or unipolar depression, characterised by a consistently low mood, loss of appetite, sleep disturbance, loss of energy and concentration, despair and/or thoughts of suicide. As confirmed in previous assessment by myself, Professor Leopold also confirmed with my own previous assessment that the patient has yet to show any characteristics of unipolar depression or "lows" compared to the extreme "highs" that have been witnessed. This gives rise to the assumption that the patient has so far been able to curb the flow of thoughts from his mind and will find it increasingly difficult to switch off. The fact that he is suffering from chronic insomnia does not bode well for his health as his brain is never truly at rest, which could lead to heart complications and other stress related illnesses.

Psychotic symptoms: These are similar to those experienced in schizophrenia – such as perceptual disturbances, hallucinations and disordered thinking such as delusions - holding unusual beliefs that suggest a person may be out of touch with reality. Professor Leopold also confirmed that it was impossible to tell at this stage if the patient was suffering from any hallucinations or perceptual disturbances, due to him being so difficult to analyse. It is almost as if his personality shifts to suit his mood, surroundings or people he comes into contact with.

After reviewing the patients case files but having no face to face consultations with the patient, Dr. Kinsley made the suggestion that the patient could also be suffering from Dissociative disorder and more specifically Dissociative amnesia.

Dissociative disorders are so-called because they are marked by a dissociation from or interruption of a person's fundamental aspects of waking consciousness such as one's personal identity, one's personal history, etc… All of the dissociative disorders are thought to stem from trauma experienced by the individual with this disorder. The dissociative aspect is thought to be a coping mechanism -- the person literally dissociates himself from a situation or experience too traumatic to integrate with his conscious self. Dr. Kinsley concludes that this could be the reason why the patient appears unable to answers any questions about his past and personal circumstances, which are often met with hostility, violence and lies.

More specifically Dissociative amnesia is characterized by a blocking out of critical personal information, usually of a traumatic or stressful nature. Dissociative amnesia, unlike other types of amnesia, does not result from other medical trauma for example a blow to the head. Dissociative amnesia has several subtypes:

Localized amnesia is present in an individual who has no memory of specific events that took place, usually traumatic. The loss of memory is localized with a specific window of time. For example, a survivor of a car wreck who has no memory of the experience until two days later is experiencing localized amnesia.

Selective amnesia happens when a person can recall only small parts of events that took place in a defined period of time. For example, an abuse victim may recall only some parts of the series of events around the abuse.

Generalized amnesia is diagnosed when a person's amnesia encompasses his or her entire life.

Systematized amnesia is characterized by a loss of memory for a specific category of information. A person with this disorder might, for example, be missing all memories about one specific family member.

Dr. Kinsley expressed a keen interest in coming to Arkham to work with the patient and give a more conclusive evaluation but unfortunately further access to the patient in an unmediated state will not be sanctioned at this point as it is deemed to greater risk to both the patient and staff members. After various savage and unprovoked attacks on the patient was placed in a straitjacket, as is procedure, and confined to his cell were he will often screamed for hours on end, smash his head into the floor and try to bite holes in the walls. In response to this we decided to put the patient on a course of shock therapy.

A more conclusive diagnosis will be undertaken in the coming weeks.

See attached form on patient's medication, dosage and administrative conditions.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had read and read the Joker's file from Arkham so many times he almost knew it off by heart and nearly all of it disturbed him. The most worrying thing was that none of the doctors at Arkham seemed to be able to give a conclusive diagnosis as to what was wrong with the Joker. Reading back over the Joker's case file he was already toying with the idea of calling one of the doctors mentioned in the report, Dr. Kinsley. He had read witness statements taken from Harvey Dents fundraiser and one from the deceased mobster, Gambol, henchmen that the Joker had given conflicting stories as to how he received his facial scars. Of course either story could simply be pure fabrication but the notion that the Joker could be suffering from some form of amnesia greatly interested him.

It was intriguing though; that this Dr. Kinsley had in fact expressed a certain desire to come and visit the Joker in person and give a more conclusive diagnosis. Most people would have run a mile in the opposite direction, not wanted to march right up to the gates and have a conversation with the madman. As far as Bruce was aware Arkham never used doctors from outside of the institute to give a diagnosis on a patient. However the Joker was not exactly a regular, run of the mill patient. Bruce leafed back over the pages to find the reason why Dr. Kinsley was denied, _"…__unfortunately f__urther access to the patient in an unmediated state will not be sanctioned at this point as it is deemed to greater risk to both the patient and staff members._ _After various savage and unprovoked attacks on the patient was placed in a straitjacket, as is procedure, and confined to his cell were he will often screamed for hours on end, smash his head into the floor and try to bite holes in the walls. In response to this we decided to put the patient on a course of shock therapy"._

Bruce pondered the reports last few sentences for a while. It obviously indicated that the Joker was not a well man, but the idea that he would inflict so much pain onto himself generally baffled Bruce. Making a note of Dr. Kinsley's name Bruce decided that he would get Alfred to dig up any information he could on the only doctor that genuinely seemed to have an interest in looking at the root cause of the Joker's numerous psychological difficulties.

From reading the attached medication form it was clear to see that the so-called-doctors at Arkham had almost given him an over dose of Lithium, which in itself caused a bad reaction with all the other drugs they put him on. Bruce equated that this was behind the Joker's almost coma like state he had been in since Bruce had put him into bed and for the continuous vomiting. Scanning the pages again he also deduced that the shock treatment was far to frequent for anyone sane persons system to handle, let alone someone who already seemed to be touched in the head. Bruce made a mental note to look into weather there was any scientific proof in the effectively of shock therapy when treating a psychotic disorder.

Checking his watch Bruce realised that twelve hours had passed since he had first brought the Joker back to the Batcave. He was still waiting on the result from the blood test to determine if there was anything more seriously wrong with the Joker.

The taking of the blood sample had surprisingly been the most interesting part of his research. When Bruce had gone over and rolled the sleeves of the Joker's grubby white cotton Arkham pyjamas up, his eyes had not been met with a very pretty sight. Needle marks were clearly visible from the insides of his forearms and the veins surrounding them were swollen and infected and stood out dramatically against the Joker's white skin. There were also angry purple bruises on the top of his arms which Bruce assumed was from being held down by the orderlies. His wrists were also beginning to show signs of bruising but Bruce presumed that was from the restraints that the Joker's file had mentioned.

However it was the Joker's forearms that disturbed Bruce the most. Mingled together like an old patchwork duvet were what looked like hundreds of scars, both old and new, some freshly done, some old and fading. The newer ones stuck out like angry red road marks on a map on the drugged mans translucent skin. Bruce had never had any dealings with self harm or anything like this before but it added to the formulation in his mind that somewhere, deep inside that the Joker must feel something. Be it hurt, pain, anger or grief Bruce knew there was still some shred of humanity left inside. To avoid aggravating the infection that was already setting in, he decided to take the blood sample from the veins in the top of the Jokers hand. He had half expected the Joker to wake up or at least move when he inserted the needle but he just remained silent and still, his breathing regulated. The drugs at Arkham certainly did a good job of keeping there patients quiet.

Bruce glanced over at the man that had occupied his brain for the past few hours. He still in the exact same position Bruce had left him in, curled up in the foetal position with his messy blonde hair just visible from underneath the blankets. In some respects he looked as harmless as a new born kitten but Bruce was still on guard and would every so often go and check on his sleeping enemy. Thankfully the vomiting had stopped once Bruce had taken the Joker up to bed and under some warm blankets. The fever that had descended upon him also seemed to be at bay for the moment at least. Bruce suddenly found himself pondering what a bizarre situation he had found himself in.

In all honesty he hadn't even given a second thought as to why the Joker had chosen to break out of Arkham with the Mad Hatter. If the Joker's case file was anything to go by then the Joker had barely had any contact with the doctors there let alone the other inmates. But then again this was the Joker he was talking about, a man who never really needed a reason to do half the things he had done. Bruce was just glad he had managed to catch up with his arch nemesis before he had done any damage. He suppressed a shudder thinking about what Gotham could have been waking up to this morning had he not almost been knocked over by a madman falling down a flight of stairs. He cast another look back over his shoulder at the Joker, still drugged up to the eyeballs in his bed. Bruce had somehow managed to switch the part of his brain of that so badly wanted to go over and beat whatever was left inside of the blonde haired man out. In the months that had passed he been so consumed with hatred and loathing for this creature that he had spent night after night patrolling the city, hunting down any criminal that dared breath. He would not let Gotham or anyone else loose what he had lost. But lately he found himself silently sitting back and pondering a question that just kept coming back into his mind, why? Why had the Joker done such terrible things to people, people he knew must have loved ones that cared about them, would cry and ache for them once they departed from this world in such a cruel manner. The patient file that he had so studiously gone over now gave him some sort of inkling, but even that still didn't give an answer to Bruce's question. No one so far seemed to have found a reason for such disturbing behaviour. From all his years spent observing the criminal underworld Bruce thought he had reached an understanding about the criminal mind. Most criminals wanted money, power, riches and all the other usual cliché things but the Joker desired none of these things. He didn't even seem to regard his own life as very much either, even using it as a piece of the games he so clearly relished in. This in itself was perhaps the most unsettling as there are not many people who would not even beg for there own life, let alone try and force someone into killing them. Bruce shook his head and tried to focus back onto what he was doing, he had been determined not to humanise this creature before him, would not let pity, sorrow or compassion creep into his heart.

Fatigue was finally beginning to wash over him; it had been a long, strange and eventful evening to say the least. He wasn't quite sure what to do now seeing as his bed was now occupied by an escaped mental patient and he was damned if he was going to slid into bed beside him like some long lost lover. He had half a mind to go over and shake the Joker awake or just pick him up and dump him on the floor but his heart wasn't really in it. Bruce briefly considered sleeping in the chair he was currently seated in but the ache in his back decided otherwise so he resigned himself to a night sleeping on the floor. Not, however, before he made the appropriate security measures. Grabbing a pair of handcuffs he moved over to the sleeping form and snapped one round a skinny wrist and the other to the iron headboard. Taking the Jokers other wrist firmly in his hand, he checked to make sure that his captive pulse was still strong before he settled down for the night. Bruce didn't notice until it was too late the pair of eyelids flutter open to reveal a set of dazed and confused green eyes. It there fore took him by great surprise when the Jokers fist came flying at him as if from knowhere and punched him straight in the face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The joker had began to come out of his drugged stupor in degrees. The only thing he really noticed at first was that he was felt deliciously warm for once and that the bed he was sleeping was soft and comfortable. That defiantly ruled out being back at Arkham. He slipped back into unconsciousness soon after, his mind blanking once again. The second time he came too, he was more aware of noises around him but couldn't really make out anything substantial. His memory of where he was or how he got there was hazy at the moment. The only thing he was defiantly aware was of a dull ache inside his gut. A vague recollection flickered inside his mind but died instantly as he fought against it. At this point all the Joker wanted to do was curl up under the warm blankets and melt back into unconsciousness.

Then suddenly he felt a hand round his wrist, cold, harsh and unyielding. He could feel the hands again, cold, hard disgusting things touching and roaming all over his body. An overwhelming rush of anger flooded his mind and coursed throughout his entire body. The small part of him that wanted to curl up into a ball and hide was suddenly over ruled by the larger part that wanted to grab a knife and to cut, stab and slash anything that came anywhere near him. His only real thought was he pulled back his fist and struck out blindly was the first thing that he was going to do was cut this person a nice new smile…

In his mind Bruce cursed himself furiously, he should been on guard, kept a better check on the Joker's breathing and movements. He felt a thick trickle of blood begin to trickle down his chin where the Joker had busted his lip open. Thankfully he had yet to remove the Batsuit, having been so wrapped up in trying to figure out what was wrong with the Joker. And boy was he thankful for the armour plating around his body. The Joker was a dirty fighter, no doubt about it, and would use hands, teeth and claws in a fight.

If the man in front of him had looked crazy before, it was nothing compared to what he looked like now. His blonde hair was sticking up all over the place in various peaks and waves, the make-up that was normally so expertly applied looked like it had been put on in the dark by someone who only had a vague idea of what a clown looked like. Bruce momentarily caught himself being vaguely irritated at the fact that his 500 Egyptian cotton sheets were now effectively ruined as a great smear of grubby make up now coated them. However it was the Joker's eyes that disturbed Bruce the most. His pupils were huge and out of focus, the drug induced fever still clinging to them. There seemed to be not even a hint of recollection as to where he was or even who he was at this particular point in time.

Suddenly the Joker's claw like fingernails brought him back to reality as he tried desperately to subdue the mad man that was currently trying to claw his eyes out. Deciding he was better off trying to restrain his adversary from doing anymore damage to himself, Bruce's body moved of its own accord as he made a grab for the Joker's free arm and tried to hold him down. The Joker seemed to have other ideas as his foot came up and savagely kicked Bruce in the stomach. Completely winded he momentarily lessened his grip on the Joker's wrist and clutched his stomach. It was at this point that the Joker seemed to employ the tactics of a thirteen year old girl and slashed his fingers across Bruce's face and pulled viciously at the unprotected skin. Howling in pain Bruce slammed his fist into the Joker's shoulder to try and make him let go. His attacker let out a grunt of pain and thankfully his fingers retracted out, only to coil themselves into a fist and strike his face once again.

"Joker" he barked "Calm down, I'm trying to help you". This had absolutely no effect what so ever and seemed to rile the Joker up even further as he growled and spat at Bruce in the face.

Bruce was trying very hard to restrain himself from beating the mad clown beneath him into a bloody pulp, but it wasn't easy when the Joker's teeth had suddenly embedded themselves into his hand. Luckily the bite wasn't exactly akin to a Rottweiler's so his gloves held up beneath it but Bruce could still bet on there being a bruise there tomorrow. Deciding to use his substantial weight against his opponent, Bruce pressed his body down hard on top on the Joker's in a bid to restrict his movements. As soon as he managed to do this did Bruce realise what a very bad idea it was. It was like something out of the Exorcist; the screams that were coming form the Jokers mouth and the way he was twisting his body to try and escape were almost inhuman. For someone who had been so weak and sick only a few hours ago and had obviously not been eating very well, the Joker amount of strength was remarkable. Raising his head up the Joker smashed his forehead directly in the bridge of Bruce's nose. Pain erupted suddenly across Bruce's entire face, his eyes filled with water and he pulled back from the lunatic beneath him. Sensing an opportunity, the Joker somehow managed to twist and contort his body out from underneath Bruce and using both feet, kicked him forcefully in the chest.

Bruce was panting heavily as he landed heavily at the bottom of the bed; he felt a wetness begin to drip down his face. Grabbing the discarded blanket he hastily shoved it to his nose to try and stem the flow of blood. Something wasn't right. He would freely admit that the Joker was mad and deranged, but the struggle that had just occurred felt different somehow. Normally the Joker would relish any opportunity to be in Batman's company, even the Arkham files had stated that the Batman was the only thing that held his attention.

Throwing aside the bloody towel and spitting a mouthful of blood to the floor he turned his attention back towards the figure on the bed. The Joker was crouched in the corner still desperately trying to wrench himself free of the single handcuff that held him captive. His wrist was bloody and swollen from being pulled about in the struggle and now by the Joker himself as he made another unsuccessful attempt to pull his hand free. Letting out a howl of frustration he finally gave up and drew himself into the corner of the bed like a caged wild animal, waiting to be shot by a hunter. In contrast the amount of strength he seemed to posses' only minutes earlier he now looked completely exhausted and run down. His face was bloody from were Bruce had retaliated from his attack and large purple welts beginning to form on his forearms, his breathing coming in fast uneven gasps. He really did look very thin, Bruce noted, like an old grubby ragdoll that had been left outside too long.

Finally the Joker turned his attention to his would be captor. It was then that Bruce saw the drug induced haze finally lift from those glistening green orbs and stare directly back at him. His head was tilted slightly to the side, thick curly locks plastered to one side of his face with sweat. It was almost as if someone had flick at switch behind his eyes and turned the lights on.

Then suddenly it started. The sound that sent chills down Bruce's spine, one that had haunted his dreams and shaken him awake in the middle of the night. His face twisted back into an elongated ruby grin, yellow teeth bared, green eyes looked to blue, the Joker was laughing.

* * *

Authors Note:

PrincessPeach would just like too apologise for the lateness of my updates but I've broken my wrist, so its taking a bit longer to type then usual! Effectively this is only half of the chapter but I really wanted to put something up, even if its just a little bit as I won't be able to update as regularly for a while. Also the full un edited and gory version of each chapter will be put up on at some point cus ive had to tame it down for fanfiction,net! Plus thanks for all the great reviews, they give me a big joker style grin! Peace and Love.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The Joker's hysterical high pitched laughter bounced around the room and hit Bruce's ear drums hard. "Ohhhh Batsy did you come to rescue little old me?" the Joker burst out between giggles." Well aren't you just a sweetheart" he purred. Strangely the desperate need for freedom that had only a few minutes before had turned him into a wild animal was gone and replaced by a slightly more serene exterior. Settling himself comfortably on Bruce's bed he stared smugly back at his arch nemesis, his green eyes darting all around Bruce's covered face. Bruce glared at him, annoyance and disgust running through him when suddenly an idea hit him. Leaving the room he quickly made his way to the half completed kitchen and searched around for the items he needed. The Joker was still crouched in the corner, a look of smugness spreading over his features. Suddenly his eyes were drawn to the cloth in Bruce's hand and the bucket of water in the other. Launching himself backwards the Joker tried to wrench himself out of Batman's reach but it was too late. Bruce set the water down next to the bed, seized one of his legs and pulled him back towards him. The Joker squealed and kicked but Bruce was ready for any attack and held the Joker firmly. As the water hit his face the Joker thrashed his head wildly and Bruce was strongly reminded of the last time someone had removed the Joker's makeup. "Keep still or your going to hurt yourself" Bruce growled out as held the tighter. "Shan't, can't, won't" the Joker snarled like a wounded animal as he tossed his head from side to side. Bruce held him firmly and waited until the Joker finally exhausted himself. Panting heavily he resigned himself to his fate and shut his eyes tight as the water flowed down his face. Bruce moved the cloth over the Joker's face and scrubbed hard trying to get at every last bit of make up. The grease paint began to slowly fade away finally surrendering the skin beneath it to the fresh air. As Bruce removed the last bit of white from the Joker's ear he sat back and looked at the man before him.

A sizzling look of hate was burning out of the Joker's vivid green eyes but for once Bruce was not drawn too look at them, he was instead staring at man the mans face as if for the very first time. Without the ghoulish make up and dyed green hair Bruce still couldn't figure out if the Joker looked more or less like a real person now his face was bare. His complexion beneath the grease paint was fair but it still had a slightly sickly look too it. Pale eyebrows formed around large almond shaped eyes which still had dark circles underneath them. Bruce presumed that this was going from years without sleeping or eating properly. His lips were full and still held a slight red tint to them but it was the scars that intrigued Bruce the most. If it was possible they looked even more grotesque and macabre without red lipstick smeared all over them. It was useless to even ask how he had gotten such distinctive facial markings as Bruce knew he would be rewarded with about a dozen fictitious stories. Without even realizing he was doing it Bruce reached out with his fingers to touch one of those thick pink lines. The Joker flinched as Bruce's fingers moved towards his face and as quick as lightning his free hand shot out and latched itself around Bruce's wrist. "Tut tut tut, naughty naughty" the Joker hissed his tongue darting out between his teeth like a snake's. "Didn't mummy ever tell you it's rude to touch other people's private areas?" Bruce wrenched his hand free and strode away from the Joker who was starting to twitch and shift restlessly.

All in all beneath the grubby and slightly tatty exterior there was a very good looking young man who could not have been older then his late twenties. His features held a delicate almost feminine look to them but still held the strength and madness that coursed through out the Joker like a livewire. Bruce was decided that it would probably be useful to take a photo of the Joker and run it through all of Gotham's computer systems to see if any information could be gathered on as yet unknown man before him.

The Joker however seemed to be coming more and more distressed at the loss of his "face". He wouldn't look at Bruce when he spoke to him and had let his wet blonde hair fall like rags across his face. As the Joker's free hand snaked into his hair and began to tug desperately at it Bruce marched over and pulled his hand free. "Stop it" he ordered quietly, holding the Joker's wrist until he seemed to have calmed down a bit. As soon as Bruce let his hand free the Joker pulled his knees up to his chest and tucked himself back into the corner, averting his face from Bruce's. Deciding it was probably best to let the Joker calm himself down before asking him any further questions, Bruce left the room to inform Alfred he wouldn't be making it home tonight.

Sensing he was alone the Joker absentmindedly dug his fingernails into his arm; the small snap of pain was as comforting to him as a mother voice was to a child's. Pushing the fact that the Batman had forcibly removed his face to the back of his mind the Joker mind began to flicker back to what had happened to him after he left Arkham. The memory was foggy and broken but the Joker was suddenly overcome with a very strong desire to remove his clothing. He wasn't exactly sure why but they were making him feel dirty which was something he didn't normally care about but most of all they made him feel used.

Batman strode back into the room only to find the Joker trying to pull himself out of the Arkham issue pyjamas that he had been wearing. "Wait- what are you doing?" Bruce asked bewilderedly. "I don't want them on" the Joker said bluntly and Bruce could hear a slight note of distress coming from him. "Fine. I'll get you something else, just hold on a second" Bruce said quickly as the Joker was still trying to struggle out of his pyjama top. Returning five minutes later with the only spare item of clothing he could find he tossed it at the Joker. "There, now hurry up and get changed". The Joker peered back at him from under his blonde mop, a grin beginning to form across his mouth. Slowly he began to slide his hand down the front of his pale stomach. "Whats the matter Batsy? Don't you wanna play?" he purred seductively. "That's enough" Bruce growled as the Joker's hand began to venture further south. "Wanna touch?" he whispered, his hand moving back up over his chest. "No" Said Bruce flatly "You are the last person on earth I would want to touch" he hissed. "I saw you looking" the Joker purred out again, his eyes glinting in the darkness. "Just get yourself changed" Bruce barked as he turned on his heel to go and wait outside, slamming the door behind him.

Pressing his back against the wall he breathed heavily, he didn't quite know why the Joker's comments had thrown him off so much. In retrospect he was beginning to wish he hadn't removed that god awful make up. What lay beneath had surprised and shocked him, he didn't know what he had expected to find under there but it wasn't what was currently sat on his bed. The Joker's handsome face and delicate features had humanised him far too much for Bruce's liking and had reminded him that the Joker was after all, just a man. Mentally shaking himself he walked back into the room only to find the Joker still in his old dirty Arkham clothing staring back at him. "I thought you didn't want to wear them anymore?" Bruce growled out. He was not in the mood for any of the Joker's games tonight. The Joker didn't say anything but merely held up his shackled wrist and shook it, the sharp sound of clunking metal filling the silence in the room. Bruce paused embarrassedly before moving across to where the Joker was seated. "Take your trousers off" he said bluntly. "Now now Batsy, your gonna have to buy me a drink first before you can get into my pants" the Joker said, his voice ringing with amusement.

"Just do it" Batman growled, he hadn't yet figured how he was going to get the Joker out of his top without releasing him from the handcuffs. The Joker made a great show of wriggling out of his pyjama bottoms and Bruce was very thankful to find that he was wearing underwear. "Keep still" he ordered and the Joker sat obediently as he waited for Bruce to pull on the new clothing he had found. The top half was harder to negotiate and Bruce eventually had to admit defeat as he tried to pull the Joker free from his clothing. "If you move one inch…" Bruce threatened as he moved to undo the handcuff round the Joker's wrist. "Scouts honour" the Joker replied solemnly making the Klingon sign with his fingers. Bruce stared at him and sighed. In all honesty he couldn't be bothered to tell him he'd used the wrong hand signal, it was probably more trouble then it was worth.

A couple of minutes later the Joker was quite happily dressed in a pair of old pyjamas Alfred had given him as a joke for Christmas a few years back. They were a lurid shade of red with pictures of reindeer, snowmen and penguins on them. Bruce made a mental note to get some new ones as soon as possible. Thankfully he was also momentarily distracted from the fact that his face was now devoid of makeup. Sitting back against the headboard he crossed his legs and began humming a tune that Bruce didn't recognise. If it wasn't for the fact that he was handcuffed to a bed frame and had large scars on his face, the Joker could have looked like a small child waiting excitedly on Christmas morning.

Bruce suddenly became aware of how tired and exhausted his body felt; even just talking to the Joker seemed to drain him of all his energy. Glancing at the clock he realised that it had been hours since the Joker had come too and night was already beginning to fall again. Patrolling probably wasn't the best option given the current circumstances he had found himself in and he doubted if his body could cope with another sleepless night. Glancing back towards the bed he found the Joker staring at him intently. "Stop staring at me" he barked, only too aware of how much he sounded like a five year old. "Touchy touchy" the Joker replied moodily but turned his attentions to staring out of the window instead and humming loudly to himself. Sighing heavily Bruce resigned himself to having to spend another night in the same room as a mad person, only this time it was with a very awake and very annoying mad person. Patting the covers next to him "Are you coming to bed then lover?" the Joker purred out seductively, batting his eye lashes. Bruce glared at him and reached over quickly to unshackle the Joker from the bed frame an as he was caught of guard, the Joker didn't even have time to register himself being released

Grabbing the Joker round the waist he hauled him up of the bed and deposited him on across the room on the floor. The Joker kicked with all his might and tried desperately to free himself from Bruce's clutches. However in his weakened state he was no match for Bruce's strength and he was easily carried over the radiator where Bruce shackled him to the water pipe. "You can stay there until I figure out what to do with" He growled. The Joker however did not take kindly to being dumped on a cold hard floor. As soon as Bruce moved away he immediately pulled himself up to see how far he could stretch away from the water pipe. Bruce watched him for a few minutes, silently hoping that the Joker wouldn't try and chew his own hand off to escape, before he moved back and crashed out on his bed. Having to sleep in his mask really did not appeal to him but revealing his true identity didn't either so he resigned himself to an uncomfortable sleep.

The Joker found out quickly that his restraint yielded him little movement even as he tugged forcefully at it. Letting out a snarl of frustration he slumped back down onto the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest. Normally he would never be bothered about were he slept but Batsy's bed had felt so warm and snug. His body still had a dull ache to it and he began to shiver slightly against the cold.

Bruce could hear the Joker's teeth chattering from across the room and he reluctantly tossed him one of the spare blankets. Lunging forward the Joker wrapped himself up tightly in the thick, warm blanket. Tilting his head down he pulled it up around his face and rubbed his cheek against it. A strange sweet smell hit his nostrils and he breathed in deeply, savouring the sent that hit his nose. It was some form of posh cologne, the kind that was associated with someone who was wealthy but understated. The Joker inhaled again and found that it was mingled with what could only be Batsy's sweat. Deciding that he quite liked the smell the Joker rested his head on his knees, letting his hair drift over his eyes. He knew sleep would never find him, the two of them hadn't met in a long time but suddenly he found himself wishing his eyes would fall shut. His brain however was kicking into overdrive at the moment, trying to answer the many questions that were tumbling chaotically through his mind. Moving his fingers up he rubbed his temples slowly to try and still some of the traffic that was crashing through his mind. How he had gotten out of Arkham and why the Mad Hatter had escaped with him could wait for now but what he was really interested in was the fact that Batsy had saved him. When he had come round in Batman's bed he had almost died of excitement, the poor dear had even tried to help him get better. Losing himself in his musing for a while, the Joker began to formulate various plots and schemes to see how he could use the interesting situation he had found himself in to his advantage.

Bruce jolted awake groggily as something hit him in the face. Rolling over he tried to return back to sleep but his mask cut uncomfortably into his face. Again something small and hard hit him forcefully in his chest. Now fully awake he sat bolt up right only for a small piece of rolled up paper to hit him squarely between the eyes. Growling he wrenched the light on and glared down at the Joker just as he launched another bit of paper at him.

"Every time you move you make a noise, it's irritating" the Joker said flatly. Bruce narrowed his eyes as he shifted around to so the Joker could get a good look at his face. "Don't even think your climbing into bed with me" he said levelly. The Joker rolled his eyes and pouted but his retort was cut off suddenly by a violent hacking cough. "My tummy hurts" the Joker groaned out rather pathetically it seemed to Bruce. Clenching his teeth Bruce mulled over his options quickly, it was either leave the Joker on the floor where he deserved to be but be pelted with bits of paper or share a bed with someone who had blown up most of Gotham city. Heaving himself out of bed Bruce made his way over to where the Joker was sat hunched up on the floor. Reaching down he unlocked the restraint that held the clown prince to the water pipe.

The Joker was probably the nosiest, clumsiest person Bruce had ever come into contact with as he clattered across the floor, loud and as annoying as ever. Before he even made it to the bed his foot slid on a disguarded Time Out magazine and he went tumbling to the floor. Bruce made no move to help him as he walked past him back to the bed. Clambering upwards again and completely unembarrassed the Joker bounced onto the bed beside him. How he had ever evaded both Batman and the Gotham police force for months on end Bruce would never know. Before the Joker could even get comfy Bruce seized his wrist and cuffed him back to the part of the bed frame that was furthest away from him.

"Ohhh doesn't Batsy like to snuggle?" The Joker chided as he settled himself against the headboard. "You're lucky I didn't leave you on the floor where you belong, now shut up" Bruce grumbled as he turned away from the Joker. The Joker huffed and tried to get himself comfortable against his restraint. Pulling at the small bit of the duvet that Batman allowed him, he drew it up to his nose and breathed inwards. It was still there, the soft sweet smell that made the Joker's stomach quiver and flutter. "Keep still" Bruce snapped. He was already becoming irritated with the Joker's incessant fidgeting. Feeling the mattress still Bruce finally succumbed to his much needed sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Little bread-and-butterflies kiss the tulips,

And the sun is like a toy balloon,

There are get-up-in-the-morning glories,

In the golden afternoon"

The Mad Hatter's voice echoed and bounced loudly of the stone walls of his basement lair. Everything was going right and according to schedule which pleased him greatly and he had settled back into his old routine as if he had never been away. His voice grew louder and more buoyant as he thought of what was to come later.

"There are dizzy daffodils on the hillside,

Strings of violets are all in tune,

Tiger lilies love the dandelions,

In the golden afternoon"

He moved over to the large chest that had previously housed his now slightly moth eaten clothes and pulled out a large paddled hairbrush. It was old and battered, much like everything else the Mad Hatter owned, and had a few clumps of long blonde hair clinging to it. Scowling slightly he pulled loose the old stray hairs and threw them carelessly on the floor and kicked them under the bed. Caressing the brush slowly he walked jubilantly back over to his tea party, singing joyfully as he went.

"There are dog and caterpillars and a copper centipede,

Where the lazy daisies love the very peaceful life,

They lead...

You can learn a lot of things from the flowers,

For especially in the month of June,

There's a wealth of happiness and romance,

All in the golden afternoon"

Reaching the table he paused in annoyance at the premature end to his favourite song. How many times had he told the stupid girl that she was supposed to sing the last verse of the song? It wouldn't work otherwise! She obviously needed to be reminded again and hopefully next time she wouldn't forget so readily. Drawing back his hand he slapped the insolent girl hard across the face, "Your supposed to sing" he hissed.

Alice Macintyre sobbed and rocked hysterical as her face stung from the forceful blow. "Please Mister, just let me go. I won't tell anyone you took me, I promise" she chocked out, her vision almost blinded by the tears. "SING!!" he screeched at her. Chocking slightly she began to whisper;

"You can learn a lot of things from the flowers

For especially in the month of June…"

Smiling happily he grabbed a handful of her long golden hair as she sang and began to run the brush through it. Her hair had gotten tangled and dirty from being down in the basement for so long and it was hard getting them out. Without listening to the Alice's squeals of pain he tugged and pulled at the tangles in her hair, pulling out big clumps of it as he went. As he attempted to pull out a particularly stubborn tangle Alice's singing turned into a howl of pain as she tried to twist away from him. The Mad Hatter scowled and brought the brush down hard on the top of her head. Grabbing fistfuls of Alice's long locks he pulled her head back sharply, "Sing" he whispered. Her eyes stinging with pain and tears Alice let sobbed out the rest of the song;

"There's a wealth of happiness and romance

All in the golden afternoon"

Letting go of her now tangle free hair the Mad Hatter pulled out a small length of black satin ribbon from his inside coat pocket. Tying it in a bow on the top of her head he ran his hands through her hair and over the back of her neck. Alice trembled as his short fat fingers brushed over the nape of her neck. Moving back to his seat opposite her he beamed broadly, "Perfect, now what about some tea Alice?" Nodding dumbly, Alice prayed silently that someone would find her soon.

She had been walking home from her friend Helens house when the man before her had asked her to help a cat that he had accidently run over. He had been dressed normalier then, in a shirt and slacks and had seemed harmless enough. Alice had hesitated slightly as her mother had always taught her not to talk to strangers but he had been so persuasive. Plus she liked animals and couldn't bear the thought of a little cat dying so she went over and knelt down by his car. Alice didn't even have time to scream as the man had suddenly put his hand over her mouth and bundled her into the trunk of his car. She had screamed and kicked from inside but it had done no good and it didn't take her long to pass out in stuffy heat of the trunk.

When she awoken she momentarily forgot where she was, confusion sweeping through her as she came round. It didn't take her long to remember as she found herself bound by thick ropes to a chair with her wrists tied separately in front of her. Taking in her surroundings she saw that she was in a dark grimy basement that looked like it was dug out of stone with a flickering light overhead. She gagged slightly as a foul gotten smell hit her nostrils, like meat that had been left out in the heat too long. The restricting rope around her body made it difficult to see what behind her but she could just make out what looked like long rows of shelves. In front of her was an old wooden table with a white pristine chintz table cloth laid over it. There was a wide array of teacups in all shapes, colours and size strewn about the table as well as a bunch of teapots and a dish of mouldy looking butter. A loud clanging noise came from above her and she noticed a small staircase on her left, panicking she started to scream.

"Hello? Is there anyone up there? Please, please help me!!" she sobbed. Suddenly she heard footsteps descended the staircase and the strange man that had captured her strode into the room. He was of average height with balding brown hair which a ludicrously large green top hat now hid. The orange and red checked suit strained against his podgy waistline and the buttons couldn't quite meet in the middle. A flabby chin almost hid a red and white spotted bow tie and short stubby fingers crept out from the sleeves of a bright green overcoat. His skin was looked pale and greasy and small, dark tunnel like eyes stared back at her. Thin lips pulled back into a wolfish grin to reveal yellow crooked teeth.

She stared at him bewilderedly, taking in his bizarre appearance and the way he was looking at her; like when a predator spots prey. Screaming hysterically as he moved towards her Alice tried to desperately pull herself free. "Now now Alice will have none of this silly nonsense" her captor said, forcing his voice into a light airy tone as he moved towards her. "You don't want to get those dirty tears on your nice new dress now do you?" he asked her as he took a seat opposite her, a slight, threatening tone biting the edge of his words. Looking down Alice saw that she no longer had the jeans and sweatshirt she had gone out to play in on. She was now dressed in a pale blue knee length dress with a white pinafore, knee length white socks and shiny black buckled shoes. Horrified she sobbed harder as she screamed back at him. "Where are my clothes? What did you do to me? I want to go HOME!!" The man before her narrowed his eyes and an ugly, mean look came across his previously serene features, drawing back his hand he slapped her hard across the face. "I SAID STOP CRYING!" he shouted back as he immediately tried to regain his composure.

The strike to her face had shocked her into silence and Alice bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out. Instead she shook and trembled in her chair, praying that someone would find her soon. Surely her parents would have noticed her missing by now and would have called the police to start looking for her. If only the ropes weren't so tight around her hands maybe she could get free and try and escape. Perhaps if he left her alone again she could try and struggle free or find a weapon of some kind.

Her captor was now busying himself with the arrangement of teacups, saucers and teapots on the table before them. "What are they for?" she whispered before she could stop herself. He didn't look at her as she spoke as he was too absorbed in his teacups, "For the tea party Alice, you shouldn't ask silly questions like that". Alice bit back the part of her that wanted to scream that she didn't care about tea parties and that she just wanted to go home. Thankfully the man before her rose from his chair and walked away to the part of the room behind her. She couldn't twist her neck far enough to see what he was doing but as soon as he was out of sight she began twisting her hands, desperately trying to loosen the knots. All too quickly he was back and this time he was wheeling a very old and battered portable television and VCR towards her. Parking it in front of her, he bent down so his face was only inches from her, "Now Alice you're going too have to start learning your lessons for me now. I want every word learnt of by heart and then we'll have a nice sing song whist we have our tea party" he said. Alice swallowed nervously and nodded slowly, still complete confused as to why she was in this awful place and what lesson exactly he wanted her to learn. He smiled and stroked the side of her face with his fat calloused fingers "Good girl".


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The Joker had spent the last few hours watching curiously as Batman slept soundly next to him. Bright green eyes had roved intently over every part of the Bat suit that was not hidden by the thick duvet. Slowly the Joker had began to pull at his own small corner of the blanket, exposing more and more of the black clad body. Disappointingly Batman had removed his cape and utility belt before the Joker had regained consciousness. No matter though, there was plenty else to look at for the time being. The suit had intrigued him ever since he had first laid eyes on it and he mulled over all the possible things it could be made out of, how it was put together and all the other ins and outs he could think off. Normally being this still and silent would have been a real struggle, he had made sure during his time in Arkham that because he didn't sleep his fellow prisoners certainly wouldn't either.

On closer inspection the suit seemed to be broken into multiple pieces of armour with a black flexible bodysuit underneath. The cowl that cradled the face beneath it was not attached to the rest of the suit as he had previously thought and he giggled lightly as he remembered the shock one of his goons had got trying to remove it. Suddenly his eyes fell to the three blades attached to the arm of Batman's suit. A shiver ran through him as his free hand rubbed the side of his left arm, even through the material he still feel the three raised scars the Bat had given him on there last meeting. Fidgeting restlessly the Joker attempted to move closer to the sleeping body but his fingertips could barely reach Batsy's outstretched arm. Reaching down he pulled one of the threadbare white cotton socks he had been given at Arkham and stretched out his foot. Contorting his body he managed to rest his toes against Batsy's large muscular forearm. A cold, hard, rubber like sensation hit his skin as he curled his toes around to gain a better contact. The exact components to the suit were still a mystery to him but a number of possible explanations ran through his mind and camped there for a while as he pondered silently. Stretching his toes as far as he could over Batsy's shoulder, the Joker finally managed to brush them against the Bat insignia on Batman's chest. He wondered momentarily what the reason behind the whole Bat thing was but decided that any story he could conjure up wouldn't be as good as the real thing so he turned his attentions back to the sleeping form.

The Joker sat there for a long time, not caring how twisted and uncomfortable his body had become, his toes still firmly planted on the sleeping man's chest. Suddenly Batsy moved in his sleep and the Joker quickly withdrew his toes and retreated back against the headboard, tucking his feet underneath him. Bizarrely the slow and steady rhythm of Batman's breathing actually calmed his restless spirit, lulling him into an almost hypnotic state as he watched Batsy's chest rise and fall. Peering intently over the rim of his mound of blankets he watched fascinated as Batman's eyes began to flicker rabidly under his cowl. A vague memory washed into his mind about someone explaining to him about sleep patterns and why sleep never seemed to find him. Apparently this was called REM sleep which meant that deer old Batsy must be dreaming of something. Leaning back against the headboard he tried to conjure up images of what the big bad bat could be dreaming about. Probably something boring and self righteous or that stupid woman he seemed to like so much the Joker scoffed. What had her name been again? Rebbecca, Rosie, Roxy? Whatever.

Grinning to himself in the dark he wondered if Batsy had ever dreamed about him. The Joker suspected that it would defiantly veer towards some sort of showdown between the two of them where he begged for forgiveness and Batsy made him all better and they both danced of into the sunset. Fighting back a noise of repulsion he actually had to admire Batsy for his balls at slipping of into dreamland when he had an escaped psychopath in bed next to him. Deep down however he knew exactly why, his promise eight months ago when he was dangling upside down on a rooftop. He could never kill the Bat, it would be like killing of a part of himself, the part that still clung onto reality like frightened child clings to its mother. Sometimes he wondered if the things around him were even real and if this wasn't some elaborate dream he couldn't wake up from. So just to make sure he pushed as far as he possible could until he felt it right down in the pit of his stomach, that rush of excitement that proved he did really still exist. Sometimes, but only sometimes mind, when he had been looked up in that bright white cell for hours on end with no food, stimulation or sleep and the bright florescent lights had cut into his eyes he wished Batsy had just let him drop off that roof. But then he reasoned, his lips curling upwards into a huge grin, what would Batsy ever do without him? All too quickly the sun reared its ugly head and he shifted his free hand to shield his eyes. A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over him and made the very bones in his body ache. The Joker had felt a funny feeling in his chest all night, he didn't care much what it meant he was alive for the moment and that was all that mattered.

Bruce yawned and stretched widely as the sun moved over his body and he began to work the kinks out of his muscles. He had sunk into a deep sleep quickly, both mind and body completely spent of energy, but even as he woke his mind still felt slightly drained. Frowning slightly he realised that there was a definite chill to his body even though he was still encased in the thick armour of his suit. "Morning sleepy head" a voice cackled shrilly from his left hand side. Sitting up suddenly he looked to his left to find the Joker still shackled to the bed frame with the whole duvet drawn up around him. Bruce grunted loudly, unfortunately he had not been having a very long and bizarre dream. "What no good morning kiss, no breakfast in bed? I'm disappointed Batsy" the Joker said a note of mock sadness hinged to his words. Glaring at him Bruce quickly exited the bed and paced around the room in attempt to wake up and stretch out his muscles. Trying to clear his thought pattern and figure out what the hell he was going to do now, Bruce weighed up his options. Arkham was out of the question for the moment, if the Joker had escaped once he would do it again so that left either handing him over to the police or keeping him here where Bruce could keep an eye on him.

The Joker didn't take kindly to Bruce's lack of attention; having had to wait hours in silence for him to wake up had made him edgy. "Well it's been fun Batsy but I think I'll be going now" he said once again tugging against his restraint, "Next time you can come to mine, I'll cook". Bruce turned towards him "How did you get out?" he asked quietly, wishing for about the tenth time that this situation wasn't real. "Oh you know, gasoline, lighter, big bang that sort of thing" the Joker replied distractedly as he pulled and twisted his hand around. Instantly Bruce knew he was lying, there had been no evidence of any type of explosion at Arkham and he proceeded with his next line of questions carefully. "That's not what I heard. Apparently you didn't even plan the escape, the Mad Hatter did and took you along with him" he said trying to keep his tone light. The Joker instantly stopped trying to pull his own hand off and turned back towards Bruce "Careful Batsy, you shouldn't go sticking your nose into other people's business" he snarled. Bruce hid a smirk as he realized he had obviously touched a nerve, "Well come on then, tell me how you did it."

With his mind going into overdrive over Batman's suit The Joker found he hadn't actually given much thought about how he escaped. The Mad Hatter or whatever he was called didn't ring any bells to him. The Joker's mask of malice slipped suddenly as he struggled to remember how he had came to be where he was, he didn't like the fact that Batman knew more about his escape then he did. Bruce stared at him levelly, he had half expected some long boastful story about how the Joker had escaped but so far that didn't seem to be happening. All he really remembered was being cold, wet and something else that he had forced to deep into the back of his mind. The Joker glared at him like an angry child and folded his arms across his chest "It's none of your business anyways" he said moodily as he rubbed his eyes again.

Looking carefully at the Joker, Bruce had to say that the man did look truly terrible and it was obvious that his body as well as his mind were exhausted. The dark circles underneath his eyes were more pronounced then ever and Bruce wondered if the man had actually just sat there staring at him all night. His eyes were still feverish and slightly glazed which meant that his sickness had still yet to fully pass. After yesterdays brief meeting with a few drops of water his greasy blonde curls now resembled a large tangled wig of wire. He hadn't really noticed when he was trying to wrestle him into the pyjamas but the Joker did look surprisingly thin, his face was gaunt and his collar bones sticking out slightly. Whatever muscle definition he had once possessed was now diminished and replaced by sharp angles and jutting bones. As usual the Joker didn't seem overly bothered by his appearance as he continued to rub the back of his free hand over his face.

"Well maybe when I take you back there it'll jog your memory" Bruce said as he watched the mad mans reaction carefully. The Joker stilled suddenly, his once playful exterior suddenly replaced by a cold, dark and dangerous demeanour. "I will not be going back to Arkham Batsy, count on that" he said lowly, his voice full of steel and his green eyes ablaze. Bruce glared back at him but then considering his options he didn't really have a choice, for the time being the Joker would be staying where he was. "Fine, you'll be staying here until I decide on what to do with you". The Joker stared at him, his mood not much improved by being told he could stay in a nice warm bedroom rather then being shipped back of to a cold and crumbling asylum. "Do with me?" he purred, "Dear old Batsy, you still don't get it do you? _You_ won't be _doing_ anything with me. I'll be doing what _I _want". Deciding a more aggressive tack would yield more result Bruce grabbed the Joker by his arms and growled loudly, "Fine then, I'll just have to drag you back to Arkham and this time I'll make sure your left to rot in solitary confinement." The Joker's eyes widened slightly at Batman's threat but he stubbornly refused to admit defeat "I'm _not_going back there" he snarled loudly as he tried to pull himself out of Bruce's grip. Bruce held his arms tighter and said nastily "Alone in the dark, with only your own twisted thoughts for company and never seeing the outside world again. I can make that happen, you know I can." The Joker glared at him furiously until he finally dropped his gaze to the floor and became still, Bruce threat of Arkham finally proving too much. "Fine", he said quietly still not meeting Bruce's gaze, "But you have to promise". Bruce still retained his hold on the Joker but relaxed his grip slightly, "Promise what?" he asked. The Joker looked up at him, his eyes no longer holding the burning seeds of resentment as he spoke softy, "That you won't send me back there, if I play nice and do what you tell me too like a good boy". The rapid mood swings that seemed to run through the Joker completely exhausted Bruce, it has difficult to keep up with him, let alone know how to deal with him. "Fine" he sighed, "I won't send you back if you behave and try and help me find the Mad Hatter". Eyeing him intently the Joker's tense resolve was instantly replaced by the childlike and excitable one Bruce had been dealing with only moment s before. Letting go of him Bruce pulled over his desk chair and sat in front of the Joker. "Did the Mad Hatter say anything about why he was escaping?" he asked. The Joker shrugged as he rubbed his arms where Bruce had been holding him, evidently hoping there would be bruises, "Dunno" he replied unhelpfully. "Well did he say anything about where he was going?" Bruce asked, his patience beginning to run thin. "Dunno" the Joker replied again, he was getting bored and restless, he wanted to talk about something far more interesting, "What's your suit made of" he asked suddenly. "I- what?" Bruce said slightly shocked. "Your suit." The Joker repeated, as if he were talking to a two year old, "What's it made of?" Anger began to bubble through Bruce, why couldn't the Joker take things more seriously?! "None of your business" he snapped. The Joker rolled his eyes "Spoil sport" he said moodily as he stared sulkily back at Bruce. Frowning slightly an idea popped into Bruce's head, "How about I'll tell you what it's made of if you tell me all you know about your escape?" he asked. "How about you tell me what your suit's made of and _then_I'll tell you how I escaped" the Joker said quickly his face lighting up. "No" said Batman, "You tell me first of there's no deal". The joker paused and considered Bruce's offer before giving him his answer, "You've got yourself a deal Batsy" he grinned.

Drawing his features into a frown before he answered and it seemed to Bruce that the Joker was struggling to come up with an answer. The shock treatment that had received the morning of his escape made it difficult for him to remember exactly how the circumstance of his escape had unfolded. Running a hand through his hair and tugging at it slightly he closed his eyes to try and get a better thought process going. It was hazy and patchy but a flash of memory flicked into his mind, "I remember being wet" he said rather lamely. Bruce sighed; his chance at tracking down the Mad Hatter had proved useless due to the Joker's poor memory skills. "So, what's it made of them" the Joker asked as he sat up a little straighter, almost preparing himself for the answer. Bruce looked at him incredulously "You remembering that you were wet doesn't qualify as a full explanation for how you escaped" he said almost laughing at the fact that the Joker seemed to think this a reasonable answer. Staring back at him a look of distress slid over the Joker and he couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice "And cold" he said hurriedly. Bruce shook his head and turned to move when the Joker suddenly blurted out "Alice". Sitting back town Bruce pulled his chair closer to the Joker who was fidgeting nervously on the edge of the bed, "What" he asked. "Alice" the Joker repeated, rubbing his hand against his temple, "He said something about Alice". Taking in this new information Bruce decided that a visit to Commissioner Gordon would be in order. He looked back at the Joker who was eying him hopefully and said "Kevlar, it's made from Kevlar" earning him a large beaming smile form the mad man. "See it's not so bad playing with me is it Batsy?" the Joker chuckled as he stored this new piece of information in his mind. Bruce stared directly into the Joker's dazzling green eyes, his face only a few inches away, "I'm not playing games and certainly not with you" he snarled. The Joker merely stared back at him and let his fingers drift slowly up Batman's arm, "That's a shame, I bet you're a lot of fun to play games with" he purred. Bruce batted his fingers away but remained were he was, he wasn't about to let the Joker think his words had any effect on him. Moving his fingers to Bruce's knee the Joker rolled them round in a slow circle, "I think you just need someone to play with" he whispered seductively. Bruce swallowed but would not divert his eyes from the Joker's as he felt quick and nimble finger's move up to trace the outline of the bat symbol on his chest. "Maybe you just need to stop playing by the rules" the Joker whispered softly as he moved his fingers down over the hard rubber coated chest. Again Bruce made no move to stop the Joker, he found he couldn't help but be entranced by those big green eyes and the soft seductive quality of the Joker's voice. Walking his finger's back up Bruce chest and stopping to graze over his collar bone the Joker purred out "Then you'll really start having some fun" as he raised his eyes, tilting his head from side to side slowly, to look directly into Bruce's light blue eyes.

The Joker's hypnotic gaze bored down into what felt like his very soul and suddenly Bruce's eyes betrayed him by flicking down to settle on the Joker's soft, ruby coloured bottom lip. Inclining his head towards Bruce's, the Joker's eyes seductively drifted over the features of his face. Inching his body slowly towards Bruce he swiftly closed the gap of what little space there was between them. His lips almost brushed against the Dark Knights, his curls softly tickling Bruce's cheek and his warm breath washing over the lower half of his face. The tension was palatable, almost unbearable and Bruce felt like some sort of invisible magnet was pulling him closer towards the Joker. His head dipped forwards as if it were working of independently from the rest of him as he moved to kiss the Joker's pretty pink lips. Suddenly, just a second before he made contact, the Joker pulled away and sat back against the headboard, grinning smugly. "I thought Batsy didn't wanna play?" he purred looking at Bruce like a spider that had just caught something very tasty in its web.

Swallowing hard Bruce tried to shake of his blushing embarrassment and confusion, what on earth had he been thinking? Deciding he couldn't take that smug look on the Joker's face for a minute longer, he got up to make his leave. "And where do your think going?" the Joker said suddenly, his grin falling fast of his face. Bruce didn't answer him as he gathered up his belongings and advanced towards the door. The Joker scowled as Batman ignored him and tried once again to tug himself free of his shackles. "Don't think you can just leave me here" he hissed dangerously as he rattled the handcuff against the headboard. Sighing Bruce turned back and pushed the Joker back down on the bed, "I'll be back later" he said shortly. "What does "later" mean?" he pouted, imitating Batman's gruff voice as he perched on the edge of the bed. "Just later" snapped Bruce; he was finding it hard to look the mad man in the eye after what had transpired only a few minutes before. "What am I supposed to do to amuse myself till then, Batsy?" the Joker said seductively as he trailed his fingers over his stomach and up into his shirt. Dragging his eyes away Bruce bent down and retrieved the old copy of Time Out that the Joker had tripped over the previous evening. Tossing it at the Joker he snapped "Reading material". He swept wordlessly out of the room leaving the Joker glaring at his back as he heard heavy bolts and keys locking him in.

Silence buzzed around the Joker as he replayed what had just happened over in his mind. His favourite bit had been when Batsy had actually leaned into kiss him, not even he thought that would happen. At most he figured he would get a sharp punch to the face but he decided he liked this version better. Humming happily to himself he imagined what a kiss from the great Batman would feel like. However the Joker's musings could only sustain him for so long and he quickly grew bored and frustrated. Glancing down he noticed the magazine that Batman had chucked at him was still splayed out on the bed. Snatching it up the Joker leafed haphazardly through the glossy pages of the magazine. Socialite. Boring. Fundraiser. Boring. Celebrity. Boring. It didn't take him long to read the entire magazine from cover to cover. Reaching the back page his eyes were drawn to a preview for next week's main feature. Apparently there was to be an in depth article on the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, complete with "exclusive, previously unseen pictures". Rolling his eyes in disgust was about to start tearing the magazine into tiny pieces when something suddenly caught his eye. Knitting his brows into a frown he pulled the magazine closer so it rested only a few inches from his nose. There was something… familiar about Bruce Wayne that he couldn't quite put his finger on yet. After only a few minutes of intense puzzlement it suddenly hit him. The Joker pinched hid fingers and thumbs together to make a hoop shape and placed them over the billionaire's eyes. No, he couldn't be could he? The boring billionaire who ran around town in flash cars and a different bimbo on his arm everyday other week couldn't possible be the Batman. Letting out a shriek of pleasure the Joker's whole body was practically on fire with excitement. The grin that was now fixed upon his face was held like a talisman for hours as he gently tore the picture free. With a surprising amount of care he folded it neatly and tucked it into the breast pocket of the pyjamas Bats- Bruce had given to him. Hmmmm, even thinking the name Bruce somehow seemed right. Whispering softly he tried the name out loud, "Bruce". Cackling loudly the Joker now sent his mind into overdrive into how this latest turn of events could be used…

Authors Note:

Ohhh the Joker's such a tease, hope you all like the chapter!

After my forth chapter was stolen by someone and used almost word for word in there own story on livejournal i almost took the descision to pull my story as i was not prepared for the rest to be passed off as someone else's work. However i decided that would just be detrimental to myself so everything is back on track now, expect the next update pretty soon, im on a roll!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

'Yooou should learn not to make personal remarks, it's very rude.' Little Alice Macintyre sobbed loudly as she chocked out the words from the book in front of her. Ignoring her sobs the Mad Hatter grinned feverishly, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" he asked, his voice quivering. Alice sobbed harder as she struggled against the chair she was bound too. "Please Mister, I wanna go home, please let me go home" she begged as tears flowed down her cheeks. Snarling furiously at the break of character, the Mad Hatter beat her viciously round the head with the copy of Alice in Wonderland he had laid out before her. "Don't be a bad girl Alice" he said, frantically trying to regain his composure as Alice only sobbed harder, her wails cutting through the room like a knife. "Read the fucking book!" he bellowed, grasping her head and forcing her to look at the pages. 'Come, we shall have some fun now! 'I'm glad they've begun asking riddles. — I believe I can guess that,' Alice whispered as a small trickle of blood ran down from the fresh cut above her eye. The Mad Hatter closed his eyes as the words from the page jumped up into his mind. Savoring every last sentence he pushed his hand over Alice's knee and up under her dress. feeling cold study finger's inch there way up over her knee Alice Macintyre screamed and tried to move away but her efforts were useless against the thick ropes that held her tightly in place. "Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" the Mad Hatter whispered as he continued to push his hand up her knee to reach her thigh. Screaming wildly Alice threw herself backwards desperately trying to get out of this mad person's reach. Unable to support her frantic movements the chair she was seated on went crashing backwards onto the hard stone floor taking Alice with it. The Mad Hatter didn't even have time to react as her head smashed open on the floor with a sickening crunch. A gurgle of blood dripped out of her mouth as she breathed her last breath, her eyes flickered like a faulty light bulb and then she lay cold and silent.

Letting out a howl of frustration the Mad Hatter leaped up from the table and grabbed Alice's now lifeless body. Blood seeped from the back of her head, pooling around her golden hair like a halo. Her eyes that were only moments before filled with terror now starred lifeless back at him. Running his hands through her hair that was now filled with blood and gore, the Mad Hatter sobbed loudly onto her body. "Ohhh Alice look what you've done" he wailed clutching her too him. The tears were soon replaced by a surge of anger as he slapped her cold face with as much force as he could muster, "You stupid little bitch" he roared hitting her again, "It's not time for you to die yet". Dead eyes stared blankly back at him as the Mad Hatter shook her forcefully. The silly girl hadn't played her name sake with any justice, a horrid and beastly girl she had turned out to be. Fighting and screaming in the most horrific manner, not like the others. The others had only screamed once and then it had just been him and his Alice having tea together. It wasn't his fault he reasoned, she simply hadn't been a good enough Alice, not like his others who were all so special to him and treated him so well.

Raising the chair back onto its feet he propped up her still warm body up and pushed a teacup into her lifeless hand. It clung to her fingers for a moment or two but then slid down onto her lap and smashed into fragments on the floor. Appearing not to notice the Mad Hatter went back to his own cup of tea and sipped it silently, he found the sight of her now useless body revolting. The once long and golden hair was now mostly stained a dark ruby red and matted with blood and bits of bone fragment. The lightly tanned skin of her face was now pale with a tinge of grayish blue to it and her tongue lolled out of her wide gaping mouth. The blood that was dripping out of her nose and mouth was now making its way steadily down her chin and plopping onto her previously pristine dress.

It had all been going so well too, she had been doing what she was told like a good little girl. The ache between his groin now made itself more noticeable and the Mad Hatter grit his teeth in frustration. He had not been able to finish his routine due to the girl's ineptitude and he would not sully his body by groping at himself with his own hands. Sliding his fingers over the girl's knee again he could already feel the cold seeping throughout her lifeless body. Withdrawing his fingers in disgust he suddenly noticed the bright red patches of blood that were beginning to stain the blue material of the girls dress. Instantly he pulled and tugged the rope that bound her body free and set about callously removing the dress from its owner. After he had pulled it over the sticky mess that had once been the girl's head he folded it lovingly and set it aside. Next he pulled of her socks, shoes and finally he shifted through her matted hair to retrieve the piece of black satin he had fixed there only hours before. Gathering the items up he moved back towards his old iron chest and put the clothing away, a dull thud in the background telling him that the girl's body had fallen to the floor.

Trying not to think about the erection that was straining against his trousers he strode across the room and kicked the body viciously until he had satisfied his anger. "You were a disgusting unworthy creature" he hissed as tears began to fall down his face again. Brushing the tears aside he crumpled into a heap on the floor, what on earth was he supposed to do now? He hadn't been able to finish the most important part and now she was cold and disgusting. He rocked himself on the cold floor, sobbing silently as he stared at her small body. His vicious beating had split the skin open on her back causing more blood to leak out onto the floor. He wasn't used to so much blood; it was messy, dirty and uncalled for. His way was much simpler, cleaner and meant he didn't have to distract himself with cleaning up after the Alice's; he could just lie back and enjoy the memories.

As he looked on distastefully at all that ruby red blood ruining his stone floor he had a vague feeling that the blood reminded him of someone. Suddenly an idea popped into his mind, his eyes lighting up at the very thought of what he was planning. Why hadn't he thought of that before he had taken that stupid, useless and unworthy girl? Yes, this time it would all be done right and exactly as he planned it. Licking his lips greedily he pondered how he would go about collecting his new Alice. It would be difficult, mostly due to the fact that no doubt the police would be looking for him and of how to find his chosen Alice. But he had managed before hadn't he? All those other little girls who were told by mummy and daddy not to talk to strangers, not to go out on there own had all walked willingly into his path. Still maybe it would be easier then he thought, after all there were only so many places to hide in Gotham city. If he really thought about the Mad Hatter was sure he could figure out were Alice could be hiding from him. A plan began to formulate in his mind as he decided that it would be better to start the hunt sooner rather then later. He had wasted valuable time on that silly girl and he would have a lot of ground to cover before he could be satisfied. Rubbing the bulge of his crotch hungrily he thought back to the feeling of that soft curly blonde hair running through his fingers, warm pale skin and those big green eyes. Ohh this new Alice was going to be just perfect. Straightening his hat the Mad Hatter grabbed his coat and hurried up out of the basement.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Bruce sat down in his office at Wayne enterprises and knocked back two pain killers. It had been a long and stressful day, first the Joker and his mind bending madness and then he had to face Alfred to explain his reasoning's as too why he was keeping Gotham's most wanted man locked up at Wayne Manor. Thankfully Alfred hadn't pushed the matter and had merely said "I hope you know what your doing Master Wayne", his eyes full of concern. Bruce had tried to placidate him as much as himself by explaining that there was no way the Joker could get free and wreak havoc. The restraints he was held by were made of reinforced adimantium and could only be opened by a single key that was tucked safely in Bruce's pocket. He had a feeling that wasn't exactly what Alfred meant but he brushed it to the back of his mind along with the image of himself leaning into kiss the afore mentioned maniac. Digging in his jacket pocket he pulled out a card with the phone number on that he had asked Alfred to track down. Dr. Kinsley's number had not been difficult to track down as he had recently taken up a lectures post at Gotham University teaching advanced clinical psychology. Alfred was back at the penthouse digging up all the information he could find on the esteemed doctor and had already informed him that a Mr. Peake would be calling that afternoon regarding a paper he had written a few months ago. Not strictly true but Bruce didn't really think he could expect someone to believe that the vigilante known as Batman would be calling them to discuss how to look after an escaped lunatic he currently had tied to his bed was really going to work. Having instructed his secretary to hold all his calls for the afternoon he dug out a pad of paper to make notes on and dialled the number.

A light mid western accent met his ears as Dr. Kinsley picked up the call after only a few rings. "Ahh , your associate told me to expect a call from you. How exactly can I be of service?" Bruce hesitated slightly as tried to decide which way he was going to play this. "Well, I recently read a patient file that included a diagnosis of yours and I was wondering if you could clarify a few things for me". He could hear the pause in the other mans voice before he replied. "I'm sure you're well aware that discussing patient files with someone who is not the patient in question is against the law Mr. Peake."

"Well this isn't exactly a normal patient" Bruce confessed "I'm referring to the criminal known as the Joker who is currently housed in Arkham Asylum".

"Ahhh well I suppose that's a bit different isn't it. May I ask how you came by the files?" said the Dr. a hint of eagerness coming into his voice as he heard the Joker's name. "One of the Doctor's at Arkham asked me to follow up on your diagnosis on him and to see if you could be of any help to the police on tracking him down" Bruce lied hoping that this would sound plausible. If he believed it or not Dr. Kinsley didn't let on as he got straight down to the point. "Well I stand by my original diagnosis of Dissociative amnesia coupled with a severe mood disorder but like I said before I can't make a complete diagnosis with out meeting the patient." He said. Bruce tried to hide his disappointment, maybe this wasn't going to provide the wealth of information he had hoped for.

"Why wouldn't they let you see him in person?" he questioned. Dr. Kinsley chuckled and said "Simply because they wouldn't want me exposing the more medieval forms of "rehabilitation" they offer". "What do you mean?" Bruce asked. "Well there's an old favourite of there's that they use to extract information form particularly difficult patients. It's very simple really, if the patient refuses to give up certain things they want to know then the patient will go with out food for the day. Then if they still refuse to cooperate then its two days and so on until the patient is literately begging to tell them. Very popular with the Nazi's too I believe. They even place the food outside the door so the inmates can smell it in an attempt to starve the truth out of them." Bruce felt an odd surge of anger rise in him, Arkham was supposed to help people like the Joker, not treat them like animals. "But how could he have survived all this time if he's not been eating?" he asked. "Well sometimes the patient will give a little bit just so the can get some food and of course with someone like the Joker it would be hard to tell if he were lying or not" Dr. Kinsley responded, "I think they began to realise that he probably couldn't remember and that's why they contacted me".

Scribbling down a few notes Bruce launched in with another question. "What about the sleeping, why doesn't he sleep?" he asked hoping the Dr. could give him a way of making the Joker sleep so he could get some peace. "Well insomnia's not really my field but from what I do know it's usually caused by some form of trauma and can be very difficult to treat but again, I would have to have access to the patient to determine what exactly that was" The doctor explained, "And I wouldn't be surprised if they were purposely keeping him from sleeping". Pausing as he frantically scrawled notes across his page Bruce asked "But why would they do that? I would have thought that it would have been easier for them if they could get him to sleep". Another small chuckle filtered down the phone "Wow Mr. Peake you really don't know much about the world of the psychologically impaired do you? Firstly out of safety for the staff they would keep the lights on in his cell so they could see what he was doing and secondly they would hope that he would be easier to get information out". Bruce almost let out a grow of frustration, after all the time and effort he had put into catching criminals like the Joker all Arkham was doing was making them even more unbalanced and unhinged then before. Thinking back to the raggedy and dishevelled man back at his mansion he felt a small stab of pity. May be if someone had been able to help the Joker sooner he wouldn't have turned into a monster that was hell bent on destroying everything he came into contact with.

"So that's why he looks so thin" Bruce wondered out loud. There was a pause on the other end of the line "You've seen him then?" said Dr. Kinsley, a touch of excitement in his voice. Bruce's brain scrambled to think of a way out of revealing that he had the mad man handcuffed to a water pipe in his bedroom. "In Arkham, I saw him in Arkham a few weeks ago" he rushed out. "That's odd; I thought they had restricted visitors from the outside from seeing him. I applied for access again only a last week, only to be told he had been placed in solitary confinement." Dr Kinsley said slowly. Bruce swallowed nervously unsure as to how he should proceed, "I know someone that wants to try and help him get better and see if he can be rehabilitated" he said lamely. There was another pause before the Doctor started speaking again, his voice clear and precise so that Bruce caught every word.

"He's a damaged creature, Mr. Peake and perhaps after all he's done he doesn't deserve a second chance but if you are willing to give him one then I suggest that you prepare yourself. He may not react in the way you want at first or become the normal human being you wish him to be, it will take time and effort but if you could show him the decencies of human kindness then it is possible. Do you think your "friend" can offer that?" His question didn't hang in the air for long and Bruce surprised himself slightly in the quickness of his answer. "Yes, yes I think can" he said quietly knowing that there was no need for his cover story now. "Well, I feel I have to warn you Mr. Peake, he doesn't understand sorry, doesn't get empathy. He will want to hurt you as much as he himself has been hurt, maybe he already has" said the doctor softly. The image of Rachael, laughing and smiling the way she used too when they were kids flashed up before Bruce's eyes. "What do you think made him into such a monster?" he whispered. "He's just a human being Mr. Peake, no more, no less." The Doctor replied quietly. Bruce sighed, that's exactly what he was afraid of.

Continuing the Dr. Kinsley went on, "Well of the top of my head I would say some form of severe childhood disturbances associated with violence. There are of course some aspects of violent behaviour that are inbuilt in birth but most violent behaviour is learnt in the early stages of childhood. If a child experiences violence in the home then nine times out of ten that child will go on to exhibit violent behaviour themselves. The Joker wasn't born a monster, Mr. Peake. He was made one through years of systematic abuse and neglect".

Hearing these words had the same affect on Bruce as it had when he removed the Joker's make up, it showed him that the Joker had suffered just like everybody else had, maybe even more so. Behind all the chaos he seemed to crave and take great delight in making and his so called "social experiments" there was a very vulnerable and damaged human being. "What type of abuse do you think he suffered?" Bruce asked quietly, not quite sure was ready for the answer. "That's impossible to say Mr. Peake. It could have been any thing from regular beatings to brutal forms of sexual abuse. In my line of work you hear some truly awful things. Children as young as eight being molested daily, having to perform sexual acts they don't even understand and being terrified into keeping silent about it" Dr. Kinsley said.

"But he doesn't even seem to want to get better; it's almost as if he enjoys being this way." Bruce said sadly. "At the moment he's behaving like a wild animal, untamed and frustrated at not being able to do what he wants. You can't treat someone like an animal and then be surprised when he turns round and bites you ." Dr Kinsley chuckled but then continued in a more serious tone, "You have to understand Mr. Peake that at some point in the Joker's life he was in the situation where someone either cut his face open or he did that to himself. Have you never thought to ask yourself what happened to him that was so terrible, so horrific that he has completely shut himself off from society? I wouldn't like to guess as to what that situation could have been but it must have caused him severe emotional trauma. There is no way you could go through something like that and not come out the other side undamaged." Dr. Kinsley finished levelly, the impact of his words hitting Bruce squarely in the face. "So the happy clown persona is all just a façade?" he questioned.

"The violent outbursts, the hysterics, tantrums and the constant need for attention. That doesn't strike me as someone who is happy with the lot they have been dealt life. Subliminally deep down he wants and craves any form of contact or reassurance from the world around him." answered Dr. Kinsley.

"What, by blowing things up?" Bruce scoffed.

"It's rather difficult to explain and I know it sounds bizarre but in his mind he has been so starved of any normal human contact that he doesn't know how to behave properly. It's like the wires are all connected and plugged into the sockets but the electric's gone faulty." Dr Kinsley reasoned as he went on, "You have to understand that a normal day, getting up, going to work, making a meal, he's not used to that. He has no idea how to function in a normal person world. For example it would never occur to him that you should eat at least three meals a day. He probably wouldn't even think to eat anything until he was literally starving. Being put in Arkham wont' make him better either only worse. Being locked in a small cell for twenty four hours a day is not going to help him see that he could have a better life. It's going to make him angry, violent and want to strike out against the people that put him there."

"So what we should just let him loose on the streets?" Bruce asked incredulously.

"No I'm not saying that but he will not get the help he needs there, you've seen that already I'm sure. Even if Arkham knew how to handle a mind so frustratingly complex and intelligent they would find it easier to simply pump him full of drugs and keep him strapped to a bed for the rest of his life."

Trying to take everything in Bruce jotted a few more things down to his ever expanding list of notes. "Is there something simple I can start with?" he asked, wishing he had taken that extra curricular psychology course that had been on offer whilst he was at Princeton.

"You need to get him to sleep Mr. Peake" said the Doctor seriously, "The reason why he seems so wired all the time is because when the body sleeps the mind is completely at rest and can re-energise itself. Going with out sleep for prolonged periods of time is very dangerous for the body, especially for someone whose mind is already psychologically impaired. If you would like I could come and see him for myself. I could give you a proper diagnosis and a proper way in which to treat him" Dr. Kinsley asked, this time he couldn't contain the eagerness in his voice.

"No" Bruce said a little too quickly, "Sorry it's just I don't that would be a good idea and I don't think that he's really in the mood for visitors at the moment". He didn't know why but there was something about the tone of Dr. Kinsley's voice that made him wary. "Well as long as you're sure you can handle it" the Doctor replied trying to mask his disappointment with a cheerful tone but Bruce heard it loud and clear.

The clock on the wall caught Bruce's eye and he realised he had been on the phone for three hours. The sun would be going down soon and he had to get ready to go and find Commissioner Gordon. After promising Dr Kinsley that he would call with news on his progress with the Joker he bid him goodbye and hung up. Rubbing his temples he tried to let all the information sink and find a way that he could use it. As Alfred always said, he was stubborn and he wasn't about to give up on the Joker yet. If there was a way he could help the mad man and hopefully save Gotham from another attack then he was going to find it. An hour later Bruce had shed his day suit and was making his way through the darkening city towards Gotham police station, his cape billowing out behind him.

**************************************

The badly decomposed body of twelve year old Alice Worthington lay still on the cold slab in the Gotham city morgue. Having been left to rot in a basement for twelve years it was difficult to see the pretty little girl she had once been. The golden blonde hair that her mother was so proud of was now stiff and brittle like used straw and had fallen out in clumps from her head. The flesh that hadn't been eaten away by the maggots was bloated, rotten and mottled blue from bruising and decay.

"They found her wrapped in plastic sheeting stuffed into an industrial waste disposal unit on the outskirts of the city" Commissioner Gordon said sadly as he handed Batman a thick case file, "As near as we can tell she was raped and then strangled to death". Batman stared sadly down at the rotted flesh that was once a pretty young girl with her whole life ahead of her and felt a swell of anger rise in his guts. Sometimes he thought that all his training in the ways of criminals had been for nothing; there was no reason to do this despicable act someone, no way to excuse it or rationalise it. Jim Gordon's soft voice filtered threw his thoughts and brought him back to reality.

"There's multiple bruising on her upper body, mostly too the upper arms and torso and several lacerations to the face and head" he said softly as he pulled the thick white sheets back over Alice's body, "All the information we could find on Jarvis Tetch alias the Mad Hatter is in that folder. We've already exhausted all our old leads from the case, if you can think of anything I would be very grateful."

Batman opened the folder and flicked through it taking note that it was mostly full of old police reports and crime scene photographs. "Why wasn't he charged with the murders before, all this says was that he was transferred to Arkham at the end of the trial" Batman asked. Gordon shook his head regretfully as he looked up at Batman, "We could never pin any of the disappearances to Tetch, there simply wasn't enough evidence, he always had an alibi, mostly provided by his mother".

"What's his MO then?" Batman queried as he paused on a picture of Tetch's prison photo. He looked like a relatively normal man in his forties but deep in his eyes Bruce saw a flicker of darkness that seemed to radiate from the mans very soul.

"It would always happen in the same way, the girls would be taken in the early evening usually on there way home and without signs of force or a struggle, no witnesses. Two things that remained constant where that the girls all had long blonde hair and where named Alice" Gordon relayed back to Batman. "Any reason why those two things always stayed the same?" Batman asked.

"Could be anything, without a confession or any other substantial evidence we could never figure out a concrete reason. The only thing that ever came close was an old copy of Alice on Wonderland we found in his house" Gordon said wearily. "What about after the abductions, what did he do with the bodies?" asked Batman as he scanned the folder for Jarvis Tetch's last known address.

"The bodies would appear exactly five days after the disappearance was reported and then the next victim would be taken three days later" answered Gordon, "They were all killed in the same way, raped, strangled and then wrapped in plastic sheeting and dumped". Batman looked up at him as he took in Gordon's words, "He would take a victim that quickly?"

"Yes that's why we need to work fast on this one. We got a call two days ago that a twelve year old girl called Alice Mcintyre had gone missing" the Commissioner said as he took in the dark look that had entered the capped crusaders eyes. "His house, you've checked it?" Batman started as Gordon nodded. "Top to bottom and inside out, he's not been near the place as far as we can tell".

"And there was nothing on the bodies at all that could be used?" questioned Batman trying to bite back the tirade he wanted to unleash about the ineptitude of the Gotham police force.

"The coroner at the time told us that the bruising had been caused by blows from an object, probably by something flat and heavy, as were the cuts to the face but the strangling was always done by hand" the police chief said quietly as he watched the anger rise throughout Batman's body.

"Gloves?" Batman asked quickly. "I'm afraid so" Gordon said sadly, "That was the problem, there was no DNA, no finger prints ever found on the bodies to make a case stick". Batman began to pace up and down the room, trying to fit some of the pieces of the puzzle together. "How did he end up in Arkham them?" he questioned.

"Ahh well luckily we were able to get a court order to conduct some psychiatric tests done on Tetch and the results yielded him to be placed in Arkam for his own sanity. He was never seen as much of a threat though, just a sub standard schizophrenic and not in the same league as some of the other… residents anyway." Reasoned Gordon as he took his glasses of and began to polish them on his jacket, "Managed to hold down a job in the canteen, pleasant to staff, just regarded as a bit of an oddball really"

Batman continued his pacing as he mulled over possible theories or explanations, most of them each as unlikely as the next, "So how did he end up in the Joker's company then?"

"Well that's still a mystery. According to the doctors there the two rarely crossed paths mostly due to the fact that there in different wards and the Joker's doesn't exactly play well with others" said Gordon as he placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, "He's been in solitary for most of his time there or heavily drugged up and from witness statements it was the Mad Hatter that orchestrated the escape.

Finally stopping his pacing Batman turned to look at Gordon who had settled himself in an old wooden chair by the door. The man looked exhausted and dark circles had already settled themselves under his eyes, trying to track down two escaped lunatics was obviously taking its tole on him.

"I must say though it's the silence that's setting the city on edge, the wait before we plunged back into chaos again" Gordon said wearily as he sat down on an old wooden chair. "We've never had to wait this long for the Joker to act before and that's what scares me, it feels like he's planning something big and I don't know if Gotham can survive it this time."

"The Joker's contained" Batman said hoping these few words would ease the commissioner's troubles. Gordon looked levelly at the masked man before him "Contained? Batman if you have the Joker you need to hand him over so I can get him back to Arkham fast".

"Arkham can't hold him, they've already proved that. He won't be able to hurt anyone where he is and we can't run the risk of him escaping again" Batman said gruffly. The commissioner stared at him for a few more minutes then sighed "Well I hope you know what you're doing. The doctors at Arkham told me he hasn't exactly been agreeable since he's been there".

"It's fine" Batman replied shortly trying to convince Gordon as much as himself as they both excited the morgue. "That's the family" Gordon said softly, indicating a middle aged woman who had just appeared at the end of the corridor, "Excuse me, I have too go and give her the bad news". Batman nodded and slunk back into the shadows of the corridor to look on as Gordon went to greet Mrs Worthington.

Only twelve years had passed since her daughter's disappearance bringing her to the age of forty eight but time had not been kind to her. What should have been an attractive woman's face still in the prime of her life was replaced by haggard and worn features. Even from the depths of darkness that surrounded him Bruce could still make out the glimmer of hope that shone through her deadened eyes. Bruce turned away as he heard Alice's mother let out a choking howl and crumple to the floor sobbing uncontrollably.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Darkness had well and truly settled on Gotham by the time Bruce returned to Wayne Manor. He had patrolled for a few hours but the news of the Joker's escape had spread through the city like wild fire and not even the criminal underbelly wanted to get caught up in whatever he had planned. For once Bruce was thankful that the Joker's fearsome reputation was keeping the thieves and murders of the street and even more grateful for the fact that for once he already knew where the madman was.

With the Batsuit still in place to conceal his identity Bruce made his way up through the Batcave and into the main house. The locks and traps he had put in place in the unlikely event the Joker did manage to free himself where all still firmly in place. Pausing for a moment before re-entered the lions den Bruce adjusted the box he had brought up from the Batcave and took a few deep breaths. The Joker may be on his turf and restrained but this didn't mean that Bruce could let his guard down in any way. In fact being shut up in closed quarters seemed to make the Joker even more on edge and dangerous then usual.

Taking a set of keys concealed in his utility belt Bruce unlocked the door and stepped inside only to be hit forcefully on the side of the head by something hard. Dropping the box in his arms Bruce dodged out of the way as another random object went sailing past his ear.

"You've been gone ages" the Joker snarled as he threw a pot of moisturiser directly at Bruce's head.

Still shackled to the bed frame the Joker was surrounded by a mass of shredded sheets and bits of paper. In the few hours that Bruce had been gone the Joker had managed to do a surprising amount of damage for someone whose movement was severely restricted. On the wall near the bed there were a series of doodles, pieces of writing and drawings all done in biro ink. The bedside cabinet had been upended and its contents strewn across the floor, or been thrown in Bruce's general direction. There wasn't much in there, certainty nothing of value or that the Joker could have used to escape with, just some hair products, first aid kit and a few other odds and ends.

"Stop that" Bruce growled as he picked the box he had dropped back up and locked the door behind him "I see you've been keeping yourself busy" he said indicating the pictures.

The Joker ignored this remark but was looking at Bruce with a look in his eye that Bruce had never seen before, a mixture between excitement, longing and a slight touch of nervousness. Eyeing him for a few seconds Bruce pulled his chair up in front of the Joker and sat down.

"Right I may yet have a use for you yet, unless you'd rather I take you back to Arkham?" he said.

Shifting himself so he was sat directly in front of Batman the Joker smiled his mutilated smile and laughed low in his throat.

"So Batsy, heard any good jokes lately?" he questioned without waiting for an answer, "Cus I heard a real corker of one today. What do you get if you cross an over indulged, pampered playboy prince of Gotham with a masked crusader who goes around picking on harmless criminals to give himself a sense of purpose in the world?"

Bruce stared at him, swallowing nervously; the Joker couldn't possibly have any evidence that couldn't possible have any evidence to connect Batman to Bruce Wayne. The clown had been unconscious for the entire trip to Wayne manor and had seen nothing of the surrounding area whilst he had been locked up. A few expensive sheets were not enough to connect the masked vigilante with the playboy billionaire.

To Bruce it seemed the Joker had taken a wild shot in the dark and unfortunately struck right on the money. Bruce however wasn't about to let the lunatic know this.

"And you're basing this brilliant theory on what exactly? He said coolly as he regained his composure. "My fleet of Bentley's parked outback or all the Super models that are wandering round here?"

The Joker pouted and scowled at Bruce; the conversation was clearly not going the direction he had wanted.

"Don't throw a dumbass at me Brucey, it doesn't suit you" snapped the Joker, his patience was beginning to wear thin.

"Well what were you expecting? I knew you were crazy but I didn't think that even you would make such a ridiculous guess as that" Bruce said hoping he was throwing the Joker of the scent.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk Brucey", the Joker chided as he pulled out a neat square of paper from his pyjama pocket, unfolded it neatly and held up for Bruce to see.

An odd sense of relief moved over Bruce as he saw the Joker holding up a picture of himself that he recognised from a photo spread he did for Time Out magazine. An escaped criminal genius with questionable sanity was probably the last person that Bruce should be revealing his secret identity too but on a strange level he was happy.

"Where did you find that?" he asked softly as the Joker folded the picture away carefully and returned it to his pocket.

"In that trashy rag you left me with. You know what Bats, if I didn't know you better id say you wanted me to figure out who you were" the Joker said unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"And why would you think that?" Bruce asked testily.

The Joker rolled his eyes in an over dramatic fashion, "I told you before Bat Brain. You. Complete. Me." he said, making sure Bruce heard those last three words loud and clear. "Now take it of" he said quietly.

Bruce didn't know why his hand automatically started to reach up and begin to remove the cowl but there was something in the Joker's voice that just made him obey. He couldn't even put his finger on the reason why he was so willing to reveal himself to his arch nemesis but there he was, taking his suit apart piece by piece. The cape went first, then the utility belt, gloves, boots and then the armour plated suit that had protected him for so long. The black cotton trousers and t shirt he wore underneath his suit suddenly felt exceedingly light and refreshing.

All the while the Joker had been drinking in the sight of Batman shedding his suit, locking away the intricate details of how the suit formed into various parts of his brain. The anticipation was almost too much to bear and he was now practically hovering off the bed in anticipation as Batman slowly began to pull of the mask that up until now had shielded his identity from the world.

The Joker's head was cocked to the side his eyes boring into what seemed like every orifice of Bruce's face but there was also a strange look of disappointment in his eyes.

"What's wrong, do I not look as good as my picture?" he half joked as he placed his cowl carefully to one side.

The Joker continued to stare rather intently at the man before him for what seemed like an age before he responded.

"I dunno. Its weird looking at you like that" he said thoughtfully as his eyes drifting over Bruce's facial structure, "I never really thought of you being a real person underneath there. You were always just Batsy to me".

"Well I need to protect my identity with something" Bruce said coolly as he stretched out some of his muscles, "I don't think my life would be much fun if everyone knew I was Batman".

The Joker looked at him with a puzzled expression;" If you think that Bruce Wayne is the true representation of your personality, then I think it's you they should be locking up in Arkham" he scoffed.

"What are you talking about?" Bruce asked as the Joker's eyes locked with his, a fire burning deep within those curiously almond shaped eyes and bored right down into Bruce's very soul. For all the insanity that had spread like a virus through his brain, the Joker could at times speak with alarming clarity.

"That mask is moulded into your bones whether you can admit that to yourself or not. People see what they want to see. You really think they see a person underneath that mask you wear? You're a faceless shadow to those creatures down there. Nobody cares about you, no ones gonna worry about you just as long as you don't invade there safe little lives" the Joker said as his eyes fixated on Bruce's.

"I mean who really cares about Bruce Wayne?" he continued, his head tilted slightly to the side, "All these insects that he has fawning all over him wondering which whore he's been shagging or what fancy pants suit he's wearing, would they really care if turned up dead one day? Sure they'd come to the funeral and cry there crocodile tears, eat the over priced buffet food and then be on there way schmoozing with the next rich schmuck that comes there way".

Bruce stared at him unable to move, unable to even think, all he could do was sit and listen to the last person on earth who he thought would ever say out loud what he really felt deep down in the pit of his gut.

"But Batman" the Joker continued, "Now's there's someone who could cause a whole heap of trouble for Gotham if he had the misfortune to catch a bullet right between the eyes. See if there is no Batman then what would your precious citizens do then hmmm? Without Batman there is nothing out there for them; just an all consuming sense of fear and darkness. Now a guy like me could have a lot of fun in a world like that but even I have to admit it would get real dull real fast without my knight in shining Bat armour to keep me on my toes. You may be many thing Batsy but at least with you flapping at my heals I'll never succumb to boredom" he finished, cackling like a lunatic.

Bruce continued to stare at the Joker trying to regain some sense back into his body. Having the Joker voice out loud what he was thinking was one thing but for the clown to think that they were actually similar, that they needed each other was something else entirely.

"Joker if you died I doubt anyone, let alone me is going to be morning the loss" Bruce said.

"Well why don't you kill me and find out? There's nobody here, no ones gonna know you broke your little rule just for me. You could stick a knife in my gut, dump me in a river someplace and when they find my beautiful corpse all the police are gonna think is that I came of bad in one my little experiments. No one would ever suspect a thing and I promise I won't tell a soul" he giggled as Bruce stared at him.

"Look I won't even struggle, not that I can with this thing on" he said rattling his chained wrist, " And just for you Batsy I'll even close my eyes so you don't feel under pressure with an audience watching" and with that the Joker shut his eyes and waited.

After two minutes of waiting for his demise the Joker creaked his eyes open only to find Bruce glaring at him.

"See you can't do it can you? Because you know that you need me as much as I need you. You just didn't want to make me blush by admitting it out loud" he taunted.

"Oh yeah? Well why the hell would I need a freak like you?" Bruce snarled evilly as he glared at the Joker.

"Sticks and stones Brucey." The Joker sing songed but then a quieter tone took too his voice as he shifted uncomfortably on the bed, "Do you want to know what frightens you the most about me? The fact that I snapped and you didn't. I've already been pushed as far as I can go. But you, lets just see how long it takes before the big bad bat is pushed just a bit too far".

Bruce turned away as the Joker's words hit him like a sledge hammer, he didn't want to believe the Joker's words let alone look at the man and a great silence descended over the pair.

"So Batsy are you going to untie me so we can continue this conversation in a more civilized manor?" the Joker asked finally breaking the silence.

Bruce ignored him as he continued to mull over the words that had just been shared between the two of them.

"Bats?" the Joker said, a little louder this time; he wasn't used to being ignored.

"No" said Bruce quietly, is eyes still averted from the clown.

The Joker's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in what Bruce had just said.

"What?" he hissed as he began to shift about to starve off some of his agitation.

"I said no" Bruce repeated quietly, still deep in thought.

Letting out a howl like a depraved animal the Joker lunged forward and brought his free hand up to claw at Bruce's face. Wincing in pain as the Joker's talon like fingers cut into his face, Bruce seized the madman's arm and shoved him backwards as the Joker kicked his legs out wildly. Being held down by all of Bruce's weight still didn't deter the Joker from throwing himself about as he struggled to get free.

"LET ME GO!!!!" the Joker screeched as Bruce pushed his leg in between the Jokers knee to restrict as much damage to himself as well as the madman beneath him.

Holding the Joker down firmly Bruce waited until his guest decided he was going to behave. The restriction on his arm made it hard for the clown to free himself from being pinned to the bed so he resorted to banging his head forcefully against the mattress.

"Joker, stop it NOW!" Bruce demanded as he moved his other hand to the Joker's forehead and held his head down firmly.

They struggled like this for a few minutes until through lack of food and sleep the Joker simply didn't have the energy to fight back. Closing his eyes, the Joker breathed heavily and stilled as Bruce still held him in a tight hold.

Feeling the man beneath him stop squirming, Bruce lessened his grip slightly, " I'll take the handcuffs of" he said slowly as he waited for the Joker to look up at him, "If you behave yourself and help me figure out what the Mad Hatter was breaking out of Arkham for."

The Joker rolled his eyes and grinned up at him.

"Well it doesn't seem like I have a choice now does it sugarplum? Seeing as you've got me in such a_ compromising_ position" he purred as he rubbed his hips up against Bruce's thigh.

Glaring down at that ghastly smile Bruce found himself unable to pull himself off the Joker. Slightly surprised that he wasn't being punched in the face for his flirtatiousness, the Joker ground his hips a little harder against Bruce's groin.

"Like that do you Brucey?" he murmured sensually as he began to rub his foot up against Bruce's calf.

Growling loudly Bruce threw himself off the Joker and busied himself by unshackling the Joker as the madman cackled loudly on the bed. Many people would question why Bruce would even consider freeing the Joker from his restraints but deep down Bruce knew it was the right thing to do. He had only been back in the lunatics company for just under an hour but he already felt exhausted both mentally and physically. Plus the restriction on his movement didn't seem to be helping the Joker's rapidly evaporating sanity. Hopefully by giving him a little bit of movement he would calm down enough to be of some help to Bruce.

Removing the restraint from the Joker's wrist Bruce grabbed his arm before he had a chance to move.

"Remember what I said Joker, because if you try _anything_ I'll tie you straight back up again, only next time ill leave you on the floor instead of the bed" he growled.

"Promises, promises Brucey" the Joker smirked but he looked up at Bruce and nodded.

Finally Bruce let him go and backed off as the Joker sat still for a few moments and rubbed his wrist. Then without warning he scrambled up off the bed and heaved himself up to sit on the wide stone window ledge. Darkness had already enveloped the grounds around the mansion so there wasn't exactly much of a view but the Joker seemed happy enough. Pulling his knees up to his chest the Joker began to hum softly to himself. Bruce watched him uneasily for a while as the blond haired man leaned forward and blew his warm breath against the window and traced a smiley face in the condensation.

Having not yet figured out how long he was going to keep the Joker chained to his bedpost; Bruce decided it was best to be prepared for the long haul and set about unpacking the items he had collected from the Batcave. There was no heating installed in the burnt out manor yet so he had brought up the electric heater, a few extra thick blankets and a huge box of food. Not having any idea of the Joker's dietary preferences or even what sort of food he liked Bruce had brought a bit of everything; cereal, fruit, milk, chocolate, tinned goods and a few microwavable meals.

"Come on, get down form there. I've brought some food for you to eat" Bruce said as he set about fixing a bowl of fruit for himself.

The Joker ignored him and continued to stare out of the window. Bruce looked up and glared at the back of the Joker's head

"Joker, come on I don't have time for this" he growled hoping this would stir the madman out of his brooding.

"No" the Joker said flatly without even turning around to face Bruce as he traced a series of patterns in the condensation that had collected on the window.

Bruce felt his temper begin to rise at the insolent remark and he was just about ready to go and pull the Joker down by his hair when he earlier conversation with Dr. Kinsley sprang into his mind. Pausing he took a few deep breaths and attempted to calm himself down. He was going to do his best to help this man, whatever it took.

"If you don't come down I'll handcuff you to the radiator this time and you can spend the rest of your time here sitting on a cold hard floor or you can come down of your own accord, have some food and help me like you promised you would" Bruce said firmly.

The Joker turned round and shot him a sulky look but he clambered down, wobbling slightly as his feet touched the floor and moved towards the food Bruce had laid out on the bed.

"See that wasn't so hard now was it? Here you go, I didn't know what you liked to eat to I gave you a bit of everything" Bruce said as he held out a plate full of food for him.

The Joker hesitated slightly as Bruce pushed the plate further towards him, "I didn't think cutlery would be a good idea so you'll have to use your fingers" he continued.

The smell of the food began to take its toll on the Joker as he chewed the inside of his cheek and fidgeted closer.

"Well if you don't want it" Bruce said as he made a move to take the plate back when quick as lightning, the Joker snatched the plate up and sat cross legged on the bed. There's nothing like a bit reverse psychology Bruce thought, smiling to himself. The Joker meanwhile was picking through his plate of food with a rather disgruntled look on his face.

"What's this?" he asked pointing to some slices of fresh salmon.

"Its fresh water salmon" Bruce answered who was now beginning to regret giving the Joker such a wide variety of expensive food to choose from.

"Eww" the Joker said flatly as he turned his nose up at it and poked at it with his finger.

"Its very nice actually. Why don't –"Bruce started to say but was cut off when the Joker started picking bits of fish of his plate and throwing them on the floor.

"Hey that cost over $300!!" he yelled as he tried to take the plate from the Joker's grip.

"You eat it then Batsy. I'm not into the whole raw fish thing. Ohhh strawberries'" he said happily as he began devouring a handful of the sweet red berries'.

Bruce didn't think he had ever seen someone eat so fast in his entire life as the Joker hovered down a few pieces of cheese along with more fruit. They sat in silence for a moment or two, the only sound being the Joker's noisy eating habits

"Let me see your wrist" Bruce asked as he retrieved the first aid kit from the floor.

"Why?" the Joker said thickly through a mouth full of apple.

"It looks swollen, I just need to check it's not sprained" Bruce answered as he unravelled a bandage and a few strips of surgical tape.

The Joker shrugged nonchalantly but he held out his arm to Bruce as he continued to munch on his apple. Taking the Joker's hand in his Bruce began to asses the damage that had been done by the handcuffs. The skin had already began to swell and turn a dark shade of purple and Bruce gently manipulated the muscles to see if there had been any tear to the ligaments. There were also a few friction burns caused from the Joker's skin chaffing against the metal handcuff as he tried to pull himself free.

"Does this hurt" he asked as he gently pressed various points on the Joker's wrist.

The Joker shrugged unhelpfully as he began to rummage in the food box for more strawberries. Sighing to himself Bruce decided he was better of attending to the injury himself; the Joker's abnormal lust for pain would be more of a hindrance to the situation anyway. Grabbing a tube of anti inflammatory gel he tenderly massaged a few dollops onto the Joker's wrist. All the tension that was previously coiled up inside the Joker seemed to ease out as he quite happily allowed his hand to rest in Bruce's grip. Moving his thumbs in a circular motion to break up any tension that may have built up in any other muscles, Bruce worked his way down the Joker's palm; right to his finger tips.

Whilst he did this the Joker had been babbling away aimlessly about schemers, various Arkham inmates and Doctors; the logistics of chaos and a hundred and one other things. Some pieces Bruce locked in on and reminded himself to look into later but most of it he allowed to wash over him; the Joker seemed to say an awful lot without revealing anything.

Wiping the grease from the gel of his hands Bruce held the Joker's hand in his as he began to wrap the bandage around the injured area. Whilst Bruce's hands were large and firm the Joker's were smaller but his fingers were longer, slenderer and seemed to be constantly moving and on edge, much like the man they were attached too. Bruce was also quite surprised to find that the skin on the Joker's hands was mostly soft and smooth apart from a few nicks, calluses and the bits of grubby makeup that seemed imprinted onto the Joker's fingertips and nails. Securing the bandage with half a dozen pieces of surgical tape Bruce looked up to see that the Joker was still completely engrossed in his food and hadn't even noticed that Bruce had finished. Taking the opportunity that the Joker was distracted; Bruce slowly pushed the sleeve of the Joker's pyjamas to check if any of the cuts he had found when the Joker had first arrived needed any attention.

"What's your name?" Bruce asked softly as he rubbed some more anti inflammatory gel into the needle marks on the Joker's forearms.

"Excuse me, Nosey Nelly. Why should I let you inside my head when you won't let me into yours?" the Joker grumped but he still let his arm remain in Bruce's grasp.

"Everyone has a name. Even I have a real name underneath this mask." Bruce continued carefully, "You know my name I think it's only fair that you tell me yours".

The Joker's eyes locked dead with Bruce's as he threw down the piece of chocolate he was about to start eating.

"You should have told me it was show and tell time Batsy. Well let's see now, Mummy was a school teacher with one leg and a glass eye and Daddy was a scientist who ran away with the bearded lady from the travelling circus and-" the Joker stopped his ramblings as Bruce held his hand up.

"What's the matter Batsy, don't like that story? Well I got a whole bunch back here just waiting too be told" he said manically.

"No I just want the truth, no lies, no stories just the truth. What really happened to your face?" asked Bruce frustrated. Instantly he knew he had done the wrong thing as the Joker wrenched his arm out of Bruce's grip.

"You think you can figure me out Batsy?" he said menacingly, "Try. I dare you."

Bruce decided to change tact quickly before the Joker got too wound up.

"Look I can help you, I could pay for you to get a better doctor or therapy or something." He said trying to keep his voice calm. The Joker looked livid as he threw the plate of food in his hand against the floor where it shattered into a dozen pieces. "Oh I expect that's the answer to everything in Bruce Wayne's perfect little world" he screeched, "Throw money at the problem and hope it goes away. I'm not going to sit and be pocked at like some lab rat just so some stupid rich kid can get his kicks. I'm fine the way I am. It's you and everyone out there that's got the problem."

Bruce reached out and grabbed both of the Joker's arms and yanked them out straight in front of him "Well if your so perfect then why the hell do you do this to yourself?" he asked, indicating the web of scars that lined the Joker's arms, "If there was nothing wrong with you then why do you claim to enjoy being hurt so much?"

The Joker looked down at his arms as if he was seeing them for the first time

"I- I," The Joker stuttered, for once in his life, or what he could remember of it, he was lost for words. Bruce held his arms gently for a moment as he suddenly felt a great swell of sadness for the man before him. The Joker had done many terrible things but seeing him sitting there looking so lost and confused was almost too much for Bruce to deal with.

"I wanted to see what would happen" the Joker whispered softly as he looked up at Bruce, his blond locks half covering his face.

Bruce's light blue eyes met the Joker's large green ones. He lifted his hand and slowly traced them down the scar tissue the lined the Joker's cheek. The Joker's eyes followed his fingers as they moved further down his cheek only this time he didn't flinch away. The scars had an unusual texture to them, not quite soft but then again not hard like Bruce would have imagined. There rosebud pinkness stuck out sharply against the Joker's pale skin. The Joker's eyes never left his fingers as he watched them slowly travel over his face. Bruce noticed a small nick on the Joker's bottom lip; whether it was inflicted at the same time as the other scars he doubted he would ever know. Bruce could feel the Joker's heart hammering in his chest as he moved in kissed him gently on the lips, his hands still cupping the smaller mans face. Pulling back Bruce ran his fingers through those soft wavy curls. The Joker was staring back him; a look of utter confusion was playing out across his features. Those piercing green eyes were currently desperately searching Bruce's eyes for some form of malice or trickery.

Bruce knew that every part of this situation was wrong and that what he was doing would most probably not play out well in the end but he just couldn't help himself. Even though the Joker would never admit to being the damaged, hurt and vulnerable creature he was Bruce could feel it when he looked at him. Those green eyes didn't hide the hurt and cruelty he had suffered quite so well anymore and Bruce could see the small shell of a human being he once was. And on Bruce's part the Joker was the only person who could ever really understand him, know him inside out and how he could never separate himself from being the Batman.

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Authors Note

wow sorry this took so long to update, I've been in hospital for a while but im back on track now and i really hope everyone stays with the story, ill be updating far more regularly from now on!

secondly the conclusion to this chapter is a bit too rude for this site but ill send it too the peeps who would like to read it and if you guys think its ok to put up then ill post it on the end of this chapter.


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